Lost Son of Avalon
by Shadewynde
Summary: Horatio Caine faces the biggest mystery of his life - himself. Will it cost him his life, or grant him the one thing he desperately needs? (Chapters 1 - 14 have been updated.) Please R&R.
1. Painful Voices

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is set in an AU, and has appearances by the CSI (Las Vegas) team. In it, there is no Kyle, and it  
diverges a bit from the series. This is most definitely H/C, and is the product of a somewhat demented muse, but I hope you  
enjoy it anyway. Feedback gratefully and happily accepted, though flames will be stomped out and shot at close range with a  
.45. The characters from both CSI and CSI Miami are not mine, but borrowed and will be returned unscathed. Ian, Jason, and  
the occasional incidental character are mine. No profits made, and since I'm poor, please do not sue. Enjoy! :)

LOST SON OF AVALON  
by Shadewynde

Chapter One: _Painful Voices_

"What's meant to be will always find a way."  
― Trisha Yearwood

_ Why didn't you save me?_ Blood on the stone floor, dark eyes accusing as they faded from life.  
_ Why did you let me die?_ Crimson flowing onto white, pain ebbing out to be replaced by the passing from life to death.  
_ You promised to protect me._ Lost, painful gaze.  
_ Where were you?_ Countless eyes, empty and lost.  
Horatio Caine jerked violently awake, fighting down a cry of sheer anguish.  
Sitting up in the bed, he fought down a painful shudder and glanced over in the semi-darkness to his chest-of-drawers, reading the time on the glowing face of the clock stationed there.  
5:00am.  
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Horatio stayed there a moment, balancing his arms on his knees, head down, eyes closed.  
The agony manageable, as he forced himself to focus, forced control over his tormented emotions.  
_ Speed. Marisol. Raymond._  
All the victims, the innocents, the lives he had only been able to find some answers for, not save.  
The pain welled up from within him, tore through his heart.  
Still the voices whispered, asking _why_, tormented, lost eyes that followed him wherever he went.  
Walking across the polished, deep brown, hardwood floor, he made his way to the shower, pulled off his nightclothes, and stepped in.  
He turned the water to as hot as he could tolerate, and let the steam burn away the feelings of guilt and helplessness.  
Head down under the water, he struggled for a few moments to be sure his control would hold.  
Pain leached under his skin, and he accepted it.  
It was his penance, and once more, he found the strength to endure.

When Calleigh Duquesne walked into the Miami-Dade Crime Lab, clad in dark blue pants and a comfortable white blouse, she immediately sensed something was wrong.  
Frowning to herself, she looked around, found everything as it should be, and found herself puzzling over the strange dread that rose in her throat.  
The Lab's hum of activity spoke of brisk organization, everyone moving about in quiet synch.  
Walking briskly toward the Ballistics Lab, her own personal domain, she smiled as her co-worker and lover, Eric Delko, fell into step next to her.  
"Morning." she g reeted him, brightly, in her distinctive Southern accent.  
Eric was uncharacteristically solemn. He also seemed nervous - and sad? His white undershirt was hidden by a light blue shirt, unbuttoned, and his dark grey pants were creased and almost messy.  
"Cal - I need to talk to you. It's important." The dark-skinned young man looked into her eyes, as though pleading for understanding.  
"Sure, how can I help?" she asked, feeling a sudden sense of fore-knowledge as she stepped into Ballistics, the young Cuban following.  
"I know, well...I mean," Eric took a deep breath. "We've been together a while, and I..."  
Calleigh could almost predict what he was going to say, but what surprised her was - it didn't hurt nearly like she expected.  
Eric plunged ahead. "I know we love each other Cal..." he continued, a little uncertainly. "But we don't..._love_ one another. I don't want to hurt you, but...I've known a while now. You're my best friend, and I can't do this to you, and I can't do it to me." His eyes begged for reassurance.  
"Oh, Eric..." Calleigh's eyes were filled with tears, and she wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so sorry..." She had known too. For a long time.  
_ Why doesn't it hurt more? Why..._  
Eric hugged back. "Cal, I know you may not believe me but...for different reasons, I love him too." His voice was a whisper.  
"You have to tell him. You deserve to be happy. And so does he."  
Calleigh did cry then, holding onto Eric tightly, and feeling the tight embrace returned.  
For a long time, they simply held one another, but then stepped back.  
Gently lifting her chin, he asked softly, "Are we okay?"  
"Yeah. Yeah, we are. Eric...thank you." The shine of tears was in her eyes, but Calleigh felt a sense of release. As if a coil deep inside her had been sprung. She did love Eric. He was a good man, a good person. Her dear friend.  
He was also right.  
Another man had held her heart for a very long time, one that she was not sure returned her feelings.  
Someone she - treasured.  
How had her life become such a mess?

Ryan Wolfe was straightening his dark red tie and the collar on his white shirt as he turned on his way into the Lab. As he settled his clothes, he heard the radio came on, receiving a dispatch on a car chase in progress. He immediately tuned in the report.  
"10-57, subject fleeing on Northwest Thirty-Sixth. Speeds in excess of seventy miles per hour, in pursuit." the radio crackled.  
_A hit-and-run?_ Stopping at the light when it flicked to red, Ryan's attention was caught when a bright red Lamborghini zoomed past him with a pair of Miami-Dade patrol cars close on it, sirens blazing. The sports car was about to round the corner, there was a muffled _THOOM!_ and it abruptly exploded, debris flying up and out in all directions.  
With an inhaled, "Damn!", Ryan pulled in behind the second car and leapt out, running for the charred wreckage.

Calleigh passed by several of her co-workers and managed a friendly, "Good Morning." as she passed.  
The blonde paused outside Horatio's office, trying to collect her thoughts.  
She wasn't really sure what she was going to say, much less how to say it.  
It had been months since she had really _talked_ to the man, and the sudden guilt made things even more complicated in her mind.  
Horatio had been so withdrawn recently that no-one had really approached him on anything other than a professional level, and she suddenly felt terrible about that. If nothing else, Horatio was her friend. He had always been there for her, for all of them.  
They all had dropped the ball in being there for _him_.  
Unobtrusively, she glanced through the window - and froze.  
Horatio, his dark blue shirt and deeper blue pants neat, somehow seemed - weary? He was absently holding his gun, expression thoughtful and contemplative as he turned the weapon in his sensitive hands.  
Calleigh had never felt so deep a chill as she did at that moment.  
His expression for a split second was almost yearning, and it terrified her.  
The pain on his face was almost palpable, something that passed through the careful veneer of calm and control.  
Something horrible was lurking there, something so massive that Calleigh saw it weighing down his gentle, compassionate soul.  
She saw his head lower, then he placed the weapon back on his desk, and she knocked quickly on the door.  
"Come in." Horatio's liquid-velvet voice rippled out with perfect control as Calleigh entered, but she wasn't fooled.  
"Horatio..." she started, voice cracking involuntarily, as she came in and shut the door behind her. _Not suicide. Not Horatio_. The thoughts whispered through her mind, trying for calm - and instead finding a terrifying sense of doubt.  
Behind the desk, his sapphire eyes met hers, a reservoir of infinite kindness and indomitable will.  
His head cocked to one side, his gaze flickering with concern. "Are you all right?" he asked, tone gentle and warm.  
She nodded. "Yeah, I just wanted to..." _What? Tell you I'm in love with you? Tell you I just saw you - no...not you_...  
At that moment, Horatio's cell phone chose to ring, and he said softly, "Excuse me." He lifted the phone, listened a moment, then said. "All right, Mr. Wolfe, I'll be right there." As he spoke, the lean redhead rose gracefully to his feet, flipped the phone closed, and picked up his dark blue jacket, sliding it over his shoulders in one smooth motion. He gave a faint, rueful smile that in no way reached his eyes, then opened the door for Calleigh to proceed him. "A car just exploded on the freeway." Horatio said, by way of explanation, but before he moved out of the office, he met her gaze again, then gently squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry." His eyes, she suddenly noticed, were so sad.  
"I...Horatio, when you get back, I really need to talk to you..." Calleigh was suddenly afraid. Not for herself. For him. What kind of personal hell was he going through? And why hadn't she seen it sooner?  
"Of course. You hang in there, all right?"  
Seeing him retreat, fingertips on his always-shielding sunglasses, Calleigh suddenly wanted to cry.

Ryan whistled and shook his head as he examined the outer perimeter of the debris. "Damn, whatever happened, this thing really blew." he said aloud, just as another silver Hummer pulled in.  
As always, he felt a twinge of relief as Horatio slid out and approached him, sunglasses perched on his nose as he glanced about once, taking in the scene. "What happened here, Mr. Wolfe?" he asked, crouching down to get a better view.  
"I was on the way in, when patrols chased the Lamborghini right past me. They were clocking over seventy, according to the radio - said there had been a 10-57." Ryan explained. "I'm sure I heard the explosion just as it was taking that turn."  
"As it slowed into the curve. Hmmm. Okay, let's sift through this mess and see what the evidence tells us." Horatio rose. "The victim?"  
"Uniforms are taking statements from the witnesses, Loman's taken the body back to the lab."  
The Lieutenant regarded the car, expression unreadable as he took in the damage in a glance.  
"You see something, H?"  
"See that burn pattern?" Horatio indicated a series of pitted cracks traveling along the side up to the front of the hood, almost hidden under all the charring. "I think that this explosion was planned."  
"A bomb?" Ryan stared over into the remains of the car.  
"Someone wanted the driver dead, and an innocent pedestrian was in the way."

The twisted, burned remains of a male was almost literally peeled from the remains, and the wreckage loaded on a waiting trailer as Walter Simmons and Natalia Boa Vista joined Ryan at the crime scene.  
Natalia was dressed in a stylish, but professional, blue shirt and white slacks, a stark contrast to Walter's comfortable dark pants and button-up yellow shirt.  
Horatio had moved over to take witness accounts from the patrol officers, and Walter stared up into the trailer.  
"Wow." he said, shaking his head.  
Natalia walked over to where pieces from the wreckage lay. "This is going to take a while to process." she observed, ruefully.  
"Yeah, H thinks there was a bomb." Ryan commented and shrugged helplessly. "Let's get to work."  
As Horatio was climbing out of the Hummer in the Lab's parking lot, he sensed someone approaching and began to turn, just as a wave of sheer agony washed over him. He barely felt the blow that sent him reeling back against his vehicle, and was unconscious before he could reach his gun.  
His body hit the pavement with a faint _thud_, and was still.  
The attackers, one tall and thin, the other muscular and almost squat, clad in matching, slightly dingy whitish jumpsuits, worked quickly, with the speed of practice.  
Staying behind the Hummer, out of line of sight, they roughly lifted the unconscious redhead and moved low to the ground.  
As they moved, a van with a Miami-Dade seal emblazoned on the side pulled up, blocking the view from the lab, and the unconscious Lieutenant was loaded in.  
"Blasphemer." spat the tall one, glaring at the prone form, kicking the still body hard in the side and making the sign of the cross.  
"We will purify his damned soul, brother." said the other, as they climbed in and the van pulled away. "Before we kill him, in the name of God."


	2. Captive Angel

LOST SON OF AVALON by Shadewynde  
Chapter Two:_ Captive Angel_

"Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will."  
― Mahatma Gandhi

By the time Ryan, Natalia, and Walter made it back to the lab, it was almost 4:00pm.  
Most of the "loose" debris was lay out on the table, and the trio was slowly sifting through it, one item at a time. It was slow, painstaking work, and they were almost on auto-pilot, speaking rarely.  
Calleigh had a report from a case-in-progress - an accidental shooting that was more tragic than anything else - when she passed by them and stopped in her tracks. Glancing up once at the wall clock, that feeling of dread came back in force.  
She knew Horatio had not come back yet, he would have said something, checked on her. He was nowhere near - rude - enough to not do so.  
Something was wrong.  
Forcing herself to believe her boss was simply held up somewhere, she stepped into the Layout Room, the blonde asked almost abruptly, "Have any of you seen Horatio?"  
Ryan looked a little startled. "H? He isn't in his office?" he asked, surprised. "He was on his way back from the crime scene, but that was hours ago..."  
"He hasn't come by...I needed to talk to him, he said he'd stop by..." Calleigh stopped and quickly indicated the clipboard. "Something's wrong."  
Natalia and Walter looked at each other, and Ryan stared at the ballistics expert. "He'd've checked on this case, yeah. You're right, we'll check. C'mon, Walter. Natalia, will you check with the front and see if he's signed back in?"  
"No problem." The dark-haired woman was as concerned as her friends.  
Minutes later, the four met back at the front desk.  
"No sign of H." Ryan said, eyes showing real concern now. "Eric's checking the parking lot..."  
" His Hummer's out there, and I found...I think I found blood." Eric stepped off the elevator, looked quickly over at Calleigh, then back at his fellow CSIs.  
The cold dread in Calleigh's stomach crawled quickly up her spine. Almost without thinking, she jerked her cell phone from it's hook and dialed. It went straight to voice mail, not even a dial tone. Calleigh stared at the phone an instant, feeling her heart-rate accelerate. Horatio was missing.  
_ No_, she thought, forcing down the chill that was turning her blood to ice. _Not missing. Someone took him_.  
"We have to find him." she whispered, and this time the whole group felt the chill.

Horatio woke to pain, which only increased when a hard fist slammed into his abdomen.  
"Confess!" A voice shouted, as the Lieutenant's senses began to report in. "You are part of this!"  
He was tied to a chair, wrists held by rope, and bright light in his eyes. Despite the burning pain along his optic nerves, a blurry image formed. A sizzling, cracking sound marked the death of his cell phone, as one of the large, white-grey figures stomped hard on it several times. "Answer swiftly, and your suffering shall be brief." The other voice was lower, harsher.  
_ One in front, one on the left_. Horatio thought, saying nothing.  
There was a flurry of blows, and he heard shouts, voices raised in a kind of sick, organized frenzy.  
The pain made the CSI jerk reflexively back, but he remained silent, despite his disorientation.  
When another blow came, hard, the CSI allowed himself to sway with the punch, moving his hands subtly, feeling the knots.  
This time, two blows, and a wave of pain ripped through him, almost making him lose consciousness.  
One knot was giving a little under one hand, and Horatio forced himself to focus on that, just on the knot.  
"This will loosen your tongue, blasphemer!" The low voice shouted, and something sharp jabbed into the redhead's arm.  
Agony, confusion, and a strange wash of near-euphoria - but something in the subtly-struggling Horatio's mind kept yelling, _Stay awake, stay awake, focus, FOCUS_...  
"Go get the others. He'll confess to me, brother." This voice was slightly higher, educated, cold.  
Horatio heard the steps as the two he had identified moved away, heard a door open and close. Mind reeling, he forced himself to rip his hand free, dropped down, and swung his other arm, feeling the chair swing with it. The chair's leg caught his captor in the right temple, sending the man crashing to the ground as it flew painfully off Horatio's arm.  
Not thinking, running on sheer force of will, the CSI launched himself toward the left, finding himself crashing into a wall after a few seconds. His fingertips moved as he did, hand supporting his weight, as Horatio moved quickly down the surface, feeling a dull relief as this questing hand found a seam - felt a vibration.  
An air duct, up high, but Horatio knew that whoever was after him would soon return.  
Pulling on the grate, his hands felt a give and he hauled himself up, crouched down, and yanked the grate back behind him.  
Barely able to think, swamped with pain, Horatio turned left, pulled himself up - kept moving, until he found an enclosed space.  
_ Whump-whump-whump._  
The pain swamped his senses, confusion, strange images danced in the darkness, and he pulled his knees up to his chest.  
His hand went to his now-rumpled jacket, on reflex, and he felt the familiar lines of his sunglasses.  
The pain - inside and outside - was so intense that he found he could barely even lift his head, much less move.  
Distant _whump-whump-whump_ sounds were the only thing thing that kept him conscious - the sound of the warehouse's industrial-strength fans.  
As his mind and senses exploded, Horatio fell into darkness.


	3. Finding Home

LOST SON OF AVALON by Shadewynde

Chapter Three: _Finding Home_

"Only in the darkness can you see the stars."  
― Martin Luther King, Jr.

The Miami-Dade Crime Lab's parking lot was bustling as a man slipped around the side of the roof, watching the small group clustered around the Hummer, staring through a pair of high-powered binoculars. Clad in dark pants loose enough to allow quick movement - but not baggy - and a pull-over short-sleeved grey shirt, his only other clothing was a pair of nondescript, dark blue tennis shoes with Velcro straps rather than laces.  
Still as a statue, his hidden gaze moved from each CSI to another.  
Each working figure was a name to him, a person.  
_ Calleigh, Eric, Ryan, Natalia, Walter_. He frowned. _Where are you, Horatio_?  
Finding no answer, the watcher stayed low, moving down the length of the roof, and made his way with quick efficiency back down to the ground.  
"Any sign?" the dark-haired man that was waiting was about his age, seeming almost scruffy in jeans and a white t-shirt, along with black sneakers, looked at the other man searchingly as he dropped lightly in front of him. His voice was almost sardonic save for the concern that laced it.  
"They got to him before we did."  
"Damn it." swore the newcomer, matching the observer's stride. "We've got to find him, Jase. Fast..."  
"We will, Speed." Jason accepted the nickname as he always did, as did his companion, and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "C'mon, let's scram."  
Tim Speedle looked back once at the group, then followed after Jason, forcing the worry he felt into action.

_ Whump-whump-whump_...  
Horatio managed to lift his head, though the effort cost him tremendous effort.  
The Lab... His team, the case...the pain...  
The euphoric flashes had faded into a sense of sense-swamping pain.  
Emptiness.  
Voices rasping in his mind, accusing, crying for help that never came.  
Somehow, somewhere in his tortured mind, Horatio knew he'd been drugged. He knew the signs, knew in a numb, vague way what was happening, heard the voices beneath him.  
In the mad chaos his mind had become, he thought only one thing.  
_ Calleigh_...

Knowing that they had to process the car, the team reluctantly split up - Walter and Natalia headed back to Layout, while Calleigh, Eric, and Ryan started a search for their missing friend and boss.  
"Blood sample's positive." said Eric, looking up from the microscope into his friends' eyes. "I've run a match. It's H's."  
Calleigh's heart sank, and Ryan's eyes widened.  
"Okay." Calleigh forced herself to a semblance of calm. "What do we have?"  
"Droplets were gravitational, that means the...kidnapper...was leaning over H when he was already down." Eric glanced once over at Calleigh, concerned, then swallowed hard. The thought of Horatio out there, bleeding, in the hands of someone intending to do who-knows-what to the man he privately considered both father and brother, made him feel almost ill.  
"Not enough for a severe injury...?" Half-question, half-plea. Green eyes met brown as Ryan blew out a breath of air near the door.  
"Enough to hurt, but nowhere near enough for a kill." Eric replied, unable to hide the relief in his voice.  
Ryan looked from one of his friends to the other. "Any foreign blood?" he asked, aware something deeper was going on. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.  
Eric bent back down over the 'scope, adjusting his view as he slid in the second slide. "Well...yeah. Yeah, there's a second contributor. Definitely." He looked up and found a reassuring smile for both his friends, though he knew it fell short. Eric straightened, deftly removing both slides. "I'll get this to DNA."  
"I'll go check on the driver, and the victim." said Natalia, reluctantly.  
"I'll tell Frank, bring in all the help we can get." Ryan looked over at Eric, then back at Calleigh. Something in the way she stood, the withdrawn look in her eyes, and the distance between her and Eric... _Oh, man_. he thought, ruefully. _We all need you back, H. Some of us even more than others._

Jason looked one way, then the other, unobtrusively, gave Speed a quick nod.  
Within seconds, both were inside the warehouse door, moving off to the smaller room to the right.  
Musical "pings" were audible as they entered the tiny office, leading Speed to glance wordlessly at Jason, who shrugged helplessly.  
A tall figure was leaned back in the office chair, long fingers tapping the empty air with purposeful gestures. Each movement produced a distinctive musical "ping" that seemed to originate from thin air.  
"You keep doing that, and one day your cover's gonna be blown." Jason's drawl was amused.  
"That would be tragic, hmmm?" the return was in a steady baritone, marked with a faint, but distinct accent. "What do you know?" Serious now, emerald green eyes swung upwards to regard the pair, under thick, ink-black hair.  
Jason ruffled his blonde hair absently and sighed. "Well..."  
"They got to him before we could." Speed spoke up, voice dry and unhappy.  
The black-haired man sat up so fast even Jason backed up a step. "How many do we have here, in Miami?" he asked, voice sharpening.  
"So far, seven. Two of 'em cops." Jason's reply was immediate.  
"Put them all on this. And pull in anyone we can from any investigative agencies." The taller man leaned back into the chair, eyes closing a moment. "Speed, where would a search start for your colleagues?"  
Speed's expression told the other two he was running different scenarios through his head, then he said, "H's place. They'll look for clues there, anything that could tell them anything..."  
"Who?" asked Jason, though both men could tell he had a pretty good idea.  
"I'd bet Calleigh."  
"Meet her there."

Natalia came in as Doctor Tom Loman, the Medical Examiner, was beginning to cut a Y-incision into a young woman.  
Inside, the dark-haired former FBI agent sighed. Poor thing couldn't be more than sixteen.  
"I can tell you that she died from impact from an accelerating car. Shattered glass in the wounds, and I'm betting I'll find internal injuries consistent with that." Loman said, before Natalia could speak.  
"Do we have an ID?"  
The doctor nodded, glancing once more at the still body, and reached around to pick up the clipboard on the side table.  
"Jenny Thorpe, fifteen. Her parents were visiting the Agramont and saw the whole thing." Loman shook his head. "They gave permission for the autopsy, I think they're in shock..."  
Natalia nodded. "I'll go talk to them. Let me know if you find anything, okay?" she said, and on his nod, headed back out the door.

Calleigh had thought that the clues would be more evident than they were at the lab, but things were dragging almost agonizingly slowly.  
She decided that the best idea would be to track Horatio's movements, and that started at his home.  
So she stood, holding the keys given her long ago for an emergency, on the doorstep of the missing man's condo, kit in hand.  
She had never been to this place, but it was nice enough, and, she noted the security.  
Of course. He was a cop, he'd be cautious.  
Swallowing once, she used the three keys to open the deadbolts and the door, and slipped inside, dropping her kit inside the doorway.  
Inside, the first room was warm and pleasant, with the walls in deep colors and rich accents, a place designed to be calming, comforting.  
The furniture was largely a pale grey, with a long sofa and wide, comfortable chairs on either side and one facing away from the wall.  
There were a few pictures on the walls - one of them was a beautiful, dark-haired woman.  
Marisol.  
Calleigh had to close her eyes a moment, then quickly looked at the others.  
Horatio's brother, Raymond, and his wife, Yalina, and their son, Raymond Jr., smiled from the wall.  
A picture on the mantle was of an older woman, with large, sad eyes. There was a vague resemblance to both Horatio and Raymond, which could only mean that it was their mother.  
That was strange.  
Looking around again, she saw no sign of any likeness of Horatio's father.  
She felt a sudden pang of guilt. Horatio was a private man, he didn't let people in lightly or easily.  
But here she was.  
_ I'm sorry, Horatio_. Calleigh thought silently, as she moved around the condo.  
A computer was near the kitchen bar, neatly placed to avoid being in the way, but easily accessible.  
The bookcases on the wall - both of them - were filled with books, one side was full of classical literature, the other, forensics and crime.  
She went slowly through the room, and saw the grand piano in the corner.  
A violin sat nearby, placed on a stand.  
Staring at them, she noticed a an acoustic guitar on the wall.  
_ Do you play music, Horatio? Have you played long? What do you play?_ The disjointed thoughts ran through her head as she found a simple manila folder perched on the piano's shelf.  
Unable to resist, she lifted it into her gloved hands and flipped it open.  
Inside were at least a dozen scores, for a variety of instruments.  
For once, Calleigh was glad she had taken an Art Appreciation class in high school. It let her read the music, appreciate it's flow and grace, the fluid mechanics of sheer rhythmic power.  
The notes were hand-written.  
There were a few moments where it simply didn't register, didn't make sense.  
Horatio Caine wrote music? Played music?  
There had never been a sign, nothing that she could remember - though he had mentioned a few musical pieces in passing.  
Calleigh stared at the sheets, for a moment unable to put them down.  
_ Why would you hide this?_ Calleigh couldn't help but think. Surely he wouldn't - couldn't - be ashamed?  
Reluctantly, she put down the music, feeling as if she had invaded Horatio's privacy. She could only hope he'd understand, when - _when_ - they got him back.  
There was a small closet on the far left of the room, and she carefully opened the door - and was nearly hit in the head when a rectangle of what she thought was cardboard tumbled off the top shelf. Stooping, she picked it up - and froze.  
It was a painting.  
Of the team.  
But it wasn't just a physical, flat thing. The spirit of each person had been carefully rendered, artfully executed.  
Each person radiated a - reality, a rich character that flowed together in elegant harmony.  
This was no amateur work, this was a small masterpiece.  
Unconsciously she turned the painting around, feeling shock give way to fascination.  
It was hard to wrap her mind around the fact, but Horatio Caine was an artist.  
The man had gone out of his way to hide the fact, but Calleigh found she really couldn't understand why. Most people would have been _proud_ of this kind of ability, announced it somehow.  
Despite being a little ashamed of letting her curiosity get the better of her, she looked into the closet and found a horde of sketchbooks. All of them more or less casually stored in plastic bins.  
Lifting one, she thumbed through it, stopping at a sketch - of her.  
_ Oh my God._ Her brain reported in a moment later, noted the - beauty - he had captured with exquisite detail. _Is...this how he sees me?_ She stared at the image for several seconds before placing it back in the box and closing up the closet.  
Swallowing a few times as she worked, Calleigh followed the short hallway into his room, and looked around.  
A neatly-made bed, king-size she thought, was in the middle of the room. It was rich, dark brown wood, which flowed gently into the rich hardwood floor. The comforter was a rich ivory, matching the pillowcases and she was pretty sure that the sheets were white as well.  
She found herself blushing a little, feeling little sparks fly from her fingertips as she touched the soft comforter.  
Her treacherous mind threw out the image of a sleeping Horatio under these covers, Calleigh took a few calming breaths before forcing the images that threatened from her inner eye.  
Turning around, she noticed that the bedroom had a window, and a beautiful view of open water.  
The place was - ordered. Carefully ordered. When she checked the bedroom closet, even his suits were neatly aligned.  
She went back into the main room. There was a television on the wall, positioned to allow a clear line of sight.  
The kitchen was clean and again, ordered, the rich brown of the cabinetry soft in the light.  
The chairs and table were arranged so that they were easily accessed, and neat and clean.  
Calleigh looked around again, and finally went back to the door, opened her kit, and got out her penlight, and abruptly thought of the computer.  
_ Maybe there was a threat, something that I can trace_... Calleigh flipped it on, and realized suddenly that she had no idea of Horatio's password.  
_ Well, that is going to make this tough_. she thought, irritably.  
After the screen came up, she entered her own password and entered the personnel records, wondering if they had been accessed. From there she typed in Horatio's name, waiting the few moments for the file to come up.  
_ Access denied. Jacket sealed._  
Calleigh stared at it, confused. Personnel files were open to every detective and greater.  
Why was Horatio's record sealed? That made no sense!  
She decided to move up the chain of Horatio's past from the beginning, to see if there was any other activity.  
_ Access denied. Educational records sealed._  
_ Access denied. Juvenile records sealed._  
Now this was getting really odd. Why on earth would his educational records be sealed? Much less his juvenile records?  
_ Horatio, I know you like your privacy but this is insane! What are you hiding?_  
There was a crack and she spun reflexively, hand dropping to her gun, and was staring down the barrel of a large-caliber handgun as a figure ran across the room at her. The scrawny, middle-aged man with close-cropped dark hair, snarled at her, "Blasphemer! You serve the spawn of Satan, but I will stop you..."  
A distinctive _whump!_ sounded and the man hit the floor with a bonelessness that meant he was already dead.  
The window on the far side of the room was broken, and a youngish man with blonde hair, wearing looseish pants and a pull-over shirt, climbed all the way in. "We gotta get out of here!" he told her, in quick urgent tones.  
"Who...what...?" Calleigh's voice stammered uncharacteristically, and the man turned sharp, blue-grey eyes on her.  
"Calleigh, come with me. This is for Horatio."  
The newcomer grabbed the keys Calleigh had left on the counter, ran past her, locked the deadbolts and door lock, came back, and easily lifted the body, draping it unceremoniously over his shoulder.  
Strong hands caught her shoulders, propelling her out the window, almost speed-marching her down the steps and directly into a dark-haired man waiting.  
Calleigh actually gawked, staring disbelievingly at the living wraith before her. "Speed! But...you're...dead?" she managed to get out, green eyes huge with shock.  
Speed shook his head, smiled wryly, then deadpanned. "Well...I got better."


	4. Shot in the Dark

LOST SON OF AVALON

by Shadewynde

Chapter Four: _Shot in the Dark_

"Family is not an important thing. It's everything."  
- Michael J. Fox

Horatio felt consciousness return, and the now-familiar bite of pain.  
It was hard to concentrate, but he forced himself to focus.  
The voices below him were difficult to make out, but the pitch had raised - they were angry, and they were moving.  
Closing his eyes, the CSI forced his mind to work, to think.  
With the pain was a gnawing emptiness, a void that he knew, from years of observation.  
Withdrawal.  
He was cold, almost trembling, and he was finding staying conscious more and more difficult.  
Struggling to take a deep breath, he opened his eyes, forcing himself to listen.  
The voices stopped, one raising and becoming distinct. "Find him, before he warns the demon!" the lighter, educated voice was commanding, a thread of something worse than madness weaving through it.  
Fanaticism.  
And somehow, he was part of that more-than-madness.  
But he didn't know how.

Natalia found the parents clinging to one another in the hallway.  
The mother, a somewhat frail woman with faintly-greying dark hair, was sobbing uncontrollably into the shoulder of an equally distraught, taller man. He turned dark eyes on the approaching woman and held his wife a little closer, as if to shield her.  
"Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe?" Natalia gentled her voice, sympathy in her tone.  
"I'm Neil Thorpe." the man spoke up, eyes flicking nervously up at the young CSI.  
"My name is Natalia Boa Vista, I need to ask you a few questions?"  
"What about Jenny?" the mother's voice trembled. "My Jenny...my baby..."  
"Did you...witness the accident?"  
"Accident?" The man fought down down a sob. "That monster hit her! He was speeding, she was just ahead of us, a few steps! Just a few steps.." Tears were in Neil Thorpe's anguished eyes. "And he drove away! How could he do that? How could he leave my little girl just laying there?"  
Natalia tried to be reassuring. "As soon as we know anything, we'll be in contact."  
"Find the man who did this to my baby." Mrs. Thorpe almost wailed.

Eric and Frank Tripp were outside the elevator when Ryan came hurrying up.  
"Eric, Frank - we got a hit, but you're never gonna believe this." said the young CSI, his expression excited.  
"Who?" Eric's expression was urgent.  
"Andozza. Peter Andozza. And here's the part that is weird - he's a _priest_."

Calleigh was barely aware of the rapid transitions from the street, to the marina, into a taxi, out of the vehicle, around several streets to a near-abandoned warehouse district, and into a door.  
She did notice that the body was missing when the young blonde man returned after only a few seconds, but everything was a rapid-fire blur.  
And she kept looking over at Speed.  
Alive.  
Somehow, by some miracle, _alive_.  
"The redoubtable CSI Detective Calleigh Duquesne." The lightly-accented voice belonged to a third man, who was obviously waiting for them. He was tall, with thick, ink-black hair, and was clad in black slacks and a white shirt. Unusual, emerald green eyes regarded her thoughtfully.  
Then he sketched a faint, but not mocking bow. "A pleasure."  
"And you are?" Calleigh's chin came up, defiantly.  
The man smiled slightly, and nodded to himself, as if confirming something. "My name is Ian."  
"Well, you already know my name." The blonde was wary, but something about this man just didn't read as hostile.  
"I take it you met with some difficulties, Jason." Ian's gaze had turned to the young blonde man's.  
"Yeah. Found a straggler in Horatio's condo. Coulda been a scout." Jason grinned wolfishly, lounging easily against the doorframe. "Too slow, now, too dead."  
"I didn't see anybody outside, and we made tracks back here." added Speed, avoiding Calleigh's gaze.  
"That was wise." The dark-haired man was nodding.  
"I don't know what is going on here, but I was almost shot, then witnessed a shooting. Care to clear that up?"  
"Once a CSI..." muttered Speed, shaking his head.  
"Why, my dear Miss Duquesne, that had nothing to do with murder." Ian shook his head. "That was merely prudence. And, I might add, it did save you from an unfortunate demise."  
"I appreciate the help, but I still need to check..."  
"The crime scene?" Ian smiled faintly and shook his head. "Jason?"  
"Hey, even a shark needs to eat."  
Calleigh stared at him. "That body is part of a chain of evidence..."  
"Forgive me for being blunt, but evidence be damned." Ian said, a sharpness in his tone. "My concern is hardly about a would-be murderer. I have more important things to worry about than that."  
"Such as?" Calleigh challenged, watching the man closely.  
"Horatio Caine."

"Father Andozza?" Eric approached the older man, regarding him steadily. "My name is CSI Delko..."  
"I know who you are." There was distaste, even disgust, in the priest's voice, which surprised the younger man.  
"We need to ask you a few questions." Ryan jumped in, hearing the older man's tone and immediately suspicious of it.  
"This is a house of God, Detective." There was a distinct warning tone to the voice. "And yes, I am Father Andozza."  
"We're here investigating a kidnapping." Eric started again. "Evidence places you at the scene."  
"What kidnapping?" Father Andozza's voice was cold.  
"A CSI was kidnapped from our parking lot nine hours ago." Ryan said, watching the man. "And we found your blood there."  
"I am a servant of God. I am sure you are mistaken." Andozza was coolly dismissive.  
"Evidence doesn't lie." Eric could feel himself getting angry. This man was hiding something, he was sure of that.  
"If you had conclusive proof of any kind, I'm sure you would arrest me, true?"  
Eric was glad when Ryan jumped back in, he didn't trust his voice.  
"We'll be in touch." Ryan's voice was coolly civil.  
"Seek the truth from God, it is never too late." Father Andozza turned away, effectively dismissing the pair.

"This car was definitely bombed." said Walter, who surfaced from the evidence with a small tube in one hand. "Look at this."  
Natalia took it, and carefully examined it. "This looks like a piece of a detonator." she said, frowning. "But it's pretty burned. This thing must've been red-hot before the explosion."  
"Yeah. Didn't Ryan say the car blew as it was slowing down?"  
"It was going into a curve." Natalia nodded.  
"So it exploded the moment it slowed down - a remote control, maybe?"  
"Maybe, but no sign of a receiver."  
"Let's check the main car."

"What do you want with Horatio?" Calleigh was instantly on guard.  
"Only the best, my dear." replied Ian, with a faint smile.  
"Trust me on this, Cal." said Speed, suddenly meeting her eyes. "That's what we all want."  
Calleigh crossed her arms. "All right. Explain it to me. Where is he?" she demanded.  
Ian closed his eyes a moment, brow furrowing, then looked directly at the blonde woman in front of him.  
"All I know is an enclosed space with a steady sound."  
Jason thought about that. "Hey, air duct."  
Speed and Calleigh both looked at him, startled.  
"Enclosed space, could be a fan, right? A loud fan?" He pointed directly up, toward the industrial fan turning with mindless efficiency in the ceiling.  
"You missed your calling, Jase. You shoulda been a CSI." said Speed, dryly.  
"No way. Rules aren't my thing." Jason grinned at Speed, and then at Calleigh, who frowned at him.  
"How do you know he's where you think he is?" she asked Ian, watching closely for any sign of dissembling.  
"That would be telling." The dark-haired man smiled, and Jason laughed. Speed rolled his eyes to the ceiling.  
"Let's assume you're right." Calleigh was actually hoping he was right. At least then, there would be _somewhere_ they could start looking.  
"Time to hack the CSI mainframe." said Jason, with an impish grin. "Everything nice and collected about Miami there."  
Calleigh was actually taken aback. Who _were_ these people?  
Jason gave a jaunty little salute and trotted out the door, whistling to himself.  
"You realize he's committing a felony." Somehow Calleigh was not surprised when Speed chuckled.  
"Yeah. He's good at that."


	5. The Cavalry Prepares

LOST SON OF AVALON

by Shadewynde  
Chapter Five: _The Cavalry Prepares_

"There is no time for cut-and-dried monotony. There is time for work. And time for love. That leaves no other time."  
― Coco Chanel

Though her husband had officially ended their relationship, Sara Sidle Grissom was unable to fully process that fact.  
As she idly searched through old email in their shared computer, still feeling numb, a "sent" email caught her eye.  
It was from Gil, labelled simply, "Thank you.", and had been sent yesterday.  
Unable to resist, Sara opened the e-mail, and read:

_Horatio -_  
_Thank you for looking after Sara. I know I'm asking a lot, but_  
_I know you will keep an eye out for her. I can't hurt her this_  
_way, and besides, I'm an old man now, she has so much to live_  
_for. I'd rather her hate me than see this happen. It's better_  
_this way. I hope, one day, Sara will know how much I love her_  
_and forgive me. Until then, I'm trying to keep up. The doctors_  
_say that it's inoperable, too far spread to the tissues and_  
_other organs. I can't tolerate most of the drugs, but I'll be_  
_okay. Thank you for being such a good friend. I hope you're_  
_doing well. Thank you again, for everything._  
_Gil_

Sara stood there in shock. Gil was sick? He left her because he was _sick_? She read over the letter again. It had to be cancer. Some kind of cancer.  
Vacillating wildly between horror and fury, she looked at the email address.  
It had been sent to a server in Miami. Someone named Horatio Caine, but the email address was hidden.  
Sitting back, Sara's mind ran through everything that had happened since that horrible phone call from Gil.  
_Okay_. she thought. _What do I know? What am I not seeing?_  
An increase in pay grade, but not in rank. All through email. Kind of suspicious. In fact, the money hadn't been official, but it had paid for her apartment. And a few necessities. Where the hell had that money come from?  
And who was Horatio Caine?  
She thought quickly and an idea came to mind. A friend of Gil's that he trusted this much must be in a similar field.  
First check was entomologists.  
Nothing.  
Crime Labs were second, and immediately she had a hit.  
Horatio Caine, head of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab.  
She frowned though - why was his personnel jacket sealed?  
Frowning to herself, she checked for anything on the man.  
What she found - or rather _didn't_ find - was even more interesting.  
Caine's educational and juvenile records were sealed as well.  
Sara looked into the public record then - and found his email address, care of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab.  
She considered, then began to type in another search.  
The search found something she had not expected, not even considered.  
According to the information, Gil had never returned to work after he had sent that email.  
Twenty-four hours - nothing.  
He had simply disappeared.  
Heart in her throat, Sara tapped in a series of codes to access hospital admissions in Costa Rica. No-one under the last name of Grissom, but three "John Does" had been admitted to the Hospital de Buenos Aires from near the dig site at Bolas.  
The dark-haired woman swallowed involuntarily when the list indicated one of the three had died, but her gaze confirmed this causality was an elderly man. Another had left, victim of minor injuries.  
Looking at the last entry, she saw that the final man had simply disappeared from the hospital. She stared at the screen, and had a chilling sensation in her stomach.  
Was Gil out there, sick and maybe confused? Hurt? Launching herself from the lab seat, Sara started determinedly toward the Lab.

Eric was scowling as he and Ryan started back toward the Lab.  
"He's hiding something - beyond being a complete jerk." he growled.  
"Yeah." Ryan looked over at his friend, noticing the tightness of his jaw as the dark-skinned man drove. "He didn't like us at all."  
"He was acting strange, especially for a priest."  
"You think he knows anything about H?"  
Eric turned into the parking lot. "I don't know, but he knows something he doesn't want us to know."

Horatio was resting his head back against the metal wall, eyes closed.  
_You should have been there. You should have saved us._  
The whispers of the dead tore through his mind, and he could find no reason to not agree with them.  
He _should_ have been there.  
How many people had died because of his failures? How many innocent souls left irrevocably scarred?  
An image floated into his mind, a hand holding a whip, a whip with glass...  
He gritted his teeth and tried to _not_ remember,_ not_ think...  
_This is all your fault._ The harsh, grating tones echoed in his mind, down a dark tunnel, and Horatio's stomach clenched.  
A door, a kitchen counter, blood...  
_No!_ The silent cry was anguished, desperate.  
_Your fault...your fault..._

Calleigh watched as Speed spread a map over Ian's desk, pouring over it, though his dark eyes glanced up at her a few times.  
"It'd take days to check every one of these." Speed said, expression frustrated.  
Ian didn't lift his head. "Days we most definitely do not have." he said, fingertips moving along the map.  
"Maybe we can narrow it down." Speed suddenly looked up, just as Jason was coming back in.  
"They'd have to have a place they could come and go from without being noticed, right?" Speed went on, as Jason took up his seemingly-nonchalant stance near the door.  
Ian's emerald gaze was sharp, and Jason jumped in before anyone could say anything else.  
"So they'd have'ta to have something to do with a church?"  
Ian nodded, thoughtfully. "Cross-reference our data. Find anything near a church. Or belonging to one."  
Jason grinned. ""There's nothing quite like a good quest for getting your blood pumping." he quipped.  
Calleigh and Speed looked at him.  
"Tahir Shah. You know, _In Search of King Solomon's Mines_?"  
"Jason. Go." Ian said, in a slightly amused tone.  
"Off we go..." The younger man, said cheerfully, and "Into the wild blue yon-der..." echoed down the hall as he headed off.  
"You still haven't told me why you're looking for Horatio." Calleigh was still on-guard, despite Speed being there.  
"Why are you looking for Horatio?" asked Ian, absently.  
"He's my...friend." Just a moment's pause had Speed crack a knowing smile, which made Calleigh cross her arms and glare at him.  
Ian looked up, a faint smile on his lips. "I'm sure." he replied, and his tone was gently teasing. "Is that what this generation calls it?"  
Speed looked over at him and the older man nodded slightly and returned to his work.  
Jason came back in, holding a laptop in one hand and a stack of steaming cups in the other.  
Despite the situation, Calleigh was impressed at the display of balance.  
Sliding the laptop onto the table, Jason passed the top cup to Calleigh, the next to Speed, and the bottom one to Ian. He didn't spill a drop.  
"Coffee, coffee, and whatever weird stuff you drink, Ian."  
Speed took a deep drink, ignoring the heat, while Calleigh looked at her's.  
"Laced with sugar." observed the former CSI, not looking up.  
Calliegh looked at the three, and suddenly decided that if they had wanted to do anything to her, they would have by now. Besides, she knew Speed wouldn't hurt her. Despite all the high-speed confusion around her, she still believed that.  
She took a sip, and it _was_ laced with sugar. A _lot_ of sugar.  
"Okay, one church, Blessed Trinity Parish, has a few warehouses." observed Speed. "Something doesn't feel right."  
"Yeah. Like involving the regular church? No way."  
"What does the Catholic church have to do with this?" Calleigh demanded, eyes on Speed.  
Jason made a rueful noise.  
"They want me dead." Ian replied, absently.  
"The church wants you dead?" Calleigh was skeptical.  
"To be sure." Ian looked up, and shrugged. "It's a very long story."  
"And there is an understatement!" Jason chuckled, before pointing to the laptop screen. "I also checked out warehouses near the Crime Lab." He motioned Calleigh over, and despite herself, she joined them. "Look at this."  
"Three empty warehouses." Calleigh's attention was caught now, and Speed scooted a little over, but not far. They were shoulder-to-shoulder.  
"And one medical warehouse." Jason said, tapping the circle. "Storing drugs caught in a sting from last week. Nice and refrigerated."  
Speed looked sidelong at Calliegh, who stared at Jason.  
"How do you know it was a sting?" "Intel is my business." The blonde man grinned, and Speed smothered a chuckle.  
"Let's hit this place." Speed hesitated, then turned his gaze on Ian. "How long?" he asked, voice uncharacteristically soft.  
Ian closed his eyes. "Twenty-seven hours." he murmured.  
Calleigh stared at him, and felt an unaccustomed sense of helplessness.  
And she did _not_ like it at _all_.

Sara swung into the Lab, saw Nick and Greg, and moved immediately over to them.  
"There's a problem." she said, without preamble, and both men looked up at her, startled.  
Taking a deep breath, Sara's voice stayed steady. "I need to find out about a missing man. From a hospital in Costa Rica."  
The stares were concerned, then confused, then Greg asked uncertainly, "Costa Rica?"  
"I need to know if..." Sara stopped, then started again. "I need to find out where he went."  
"Sara..." Nick started, hesitantly.  
"It's important." The woman was frustrated, but she really didn't want to reveal more than she had to.  
"Okay." Greg spoke first, and suggested, "I'll check. Maybe he's just been discharged..."  
Sara wanted to hit something, her frustration reaching maximum. She took a deep breath to steady herself, gritting her teeth.  
Nick shrugged helplessly as Greg moved over to the computer, calling up up hospital records.  
Moments later, Greg looked up. "Well, I found something weird..." He scratched his head as his expression turned sharp. "Two missing men from near Buenos Aires, and one in Miami, all within a few hours."  
Sara's gaze was sharp. "Miami? Who's missing there?"  
"Head of the Crime Lab there, Horatio Caine."

Eric and Ryan had met up with Tripp in the Lab, and had shared their opinion of Father Andozza.  
"I'm telling you, Frank, he's hiding something." Eric said, voice vibrating with frustration.  
"Yeah, well, just on the off chance, I'll run a check on him." the Texan shook his head.  
"All we have is H's blood and Andozza's blood. We couldn't even find a scrap in the parking lot." said Ryan, voice equally as distressed.  
"He's been missing over nine hours, and we got nada." Tripp said, voice showing his concern and frustration.  
"We're missing something." Ryan said, crossing his arms and frowning. "I'm gonna go back to H's Hummer and go over that area again with a fine tooth-comb. There has to be something there." Eric stated, struggling with a sense of fear. They _had_ to find Horatio. There was _no_ other option.

Natalia finally came up from the innards of the wreck. "I found something." she said, triumphantly.  
"What?" asked Walter, blinking from the slight ash-residue.  
"A necklace...pretty melted, but it looks hand-made." Unconsciously tugging on her lab coat, the dark-haired CSI carefully held out the small object to her companion.  
Walter stared at it for a few moments, then his eyes lit up. "That's not a necklace, see that melt pattern? It's not jewelry - it's a rosary."

Horatio found himself welcoming the bursts of darkness. It was better than the painful and accusing voices that scrabbled at his tortured heart.  
He struggled for breath, barely feeling the tremors that shot through his muscles, aware of the shuddering timbre of his breathing.  
Closing his eyes, he found himself wondering if he was going to survive this.  
Another part of him wondered if he even wanted to.  
He forced his mind onto another track, found a memory of seeing Eric and Calleigh smiling at each other.  
Happy.  
His mind veered a little.  
Oh, he had wished...but that would have been dangerous. It would have put her in jeopardy.  
He wanted her to be happy, them to be happy.  
That was much more important than his selfish desires, and he had squashed them mercilessly.  
His eyes opened, vision blurry, and he thought of his wife involuntarily, remembering her.  
Every moment, every touch, every heartbeat.  
Dead.  
Because of him.  
One day.  
Just one day.  
_I'm sorry_. he thought, as the familiar pain tore through him. _I'm so sorry_.


	6. Hidden Spaces

LOST SON OF AVALON by Shadewynde

Chapter Six: _Hidden Spaces_

"One word  
Frees us of all the weight and pain of life:  
That word is love."  
― Sophocles

Calleigh was watching the three men coordinating their investigation, and could no longer keep her mind from wandering.  
She couldn't help but think about Horatio.  
_All right, I'm worried. No, more than that._ _I'm_ terrified. The admission, coming from the strong, fiery, independent woman was a little frightening in and of itself. She looked over at Speed, who was speaking in low tones to the man she knew only as Jason.  
The other member of the group, Ian, seemed lost in thought as he leaned back in the desk chair, eyes closed.  
_Horatio, what happened? Where are you?_ she cried, silently. She tried hard to make herself think like a professional, like a CSI.  
This wasn't just about a case. This wasn't something she could file away, detach herself from.  
The idea of a life without the easy warmth and intense strength of Horatio Caine simply became ugly and empty.  
Speed's hand touched her shoulder and she barely stopped herself from jumping.  
"You okay?" he asked, a little awkwardly.  
Aware that Jason was tapping away on the laptop keys and Ian seemingly oblivious, Calleigh rounded on Speed.  
"We all thought you were dead!" It came out almost as an accusation, her eyes flashed. "It tore us up, Speed! It nearly tore..." She stopped.  
Speed sighed and ruffled his hair. "It's kind of complicated..." he began, awkwardly.  
"Losing you nearly destroyed Eric, and it _hurt_ me, Speed! And Horatio - he saw you _die_! What the hell is going on?!"  
Speed glanced about once, then back at the Southern spitfire. "Okay, listen...when I was...shot, it hurt like hell, but it didn't kill me. I had to...uh...make it look good. It was about a case, something I witnessed. That jackass Stetler was eager to turn that shooting against H, and the next thing I know Alexx is helping smuggle me out to the Feds. They didn't even let me say good-bye, nothing." Speed's tones were bitter. "Just pull up stakes, report to DC, and go off the grid." He shook his head. "So I get stuck in a mound of red tape, give testimony, tell 'em I want my life back." The next words were almost a snarl. "Sorry, can't let you do that, too public, might cramp some damn politician's career."  
Calleigh rested a hand on his arm, but it was as if a dam had burst. He kept going without missing a beat.  
"So then one morning in that teeny-tiny Federal-issue apartment, I find Jase outside my room and my shadow out cold. He offered me an out. He said I could help H. Introduced me to Ian. Let me tell you, Cal. There is a lot going on here, and Ian - well, he's a notch short of obsessed. And I'm not really sure about that notch."  
"Obsessed with what?"  
"H." Speed's expression was rueful. "He'd do anything to protect him. And Cal - I mean _anything_. He's got this web of contacts and help that would scare you. And I've seen what he can do, and that would really freak you out. When I found out H was in danger, and I could help, I jumped at it." Speed stared straight at Calleigh now, steadily. "They needed someone who knew CSI, who knew the system. I fit the bill and signed on."  
"What's happening, Speed? What are they planning to do to Horatio?" Her voice had a steely edge, a determination. "Tell me."  
Speed took a deep breath. "It's complicated, and you'd never believe everything. You gotta trust me there." His voice was low. "But Ian can save H. He would never do anything to hurt him, believe me. I mean, with his resources, he could've taken out the whole damn Miami area and never be caught. But the guy's not like that. He knows I'd never turn on H, so he gave me proof that I could help. Cal, I'm sorry. I really thought I'd just be gone a few months, tops. But...well... He shrugged. "Here I am."  
"Can they find Horatio?" Calleigh looked over at the young man at the laptop keyboard, then back at Speed, green eyes demanding an answer.  
"Ian'll find him. And if anybody gets in the way - trust me. You don't want to know."

Natalia and Walter had the rosary in the Trace Lab, and while Valera checked for any DNA, they had retreated to a corner to talk.  
"I wish we could go help Eric and Ryan." admitted Natalia. "I'm worried. Horatio could be in a lot of trouble."  
"I'm worried too." Walter said, voice solemn. "He'd want us to work this, though."  
"Yeah." It was a sigh. Despite the case, despite all her training, she silently said a prayer for her missing friend and boss.

"Hey, Ryan, do you see that?" Eric turned slightly in the Hummer's seat, eyes barely able to discern a fiber clinging to the edge of the door.  
Ryan turned his penlight in the direction his friend was pointing. Using his tweezers, he carefully removed it, dropping it into a waiting envelope.  
"I think there's a little bit of fiber here too, I don't know how we missed it." Eric was kicking himself. They had looked so _closely_!  
"Well, we got this, where's the fiber?"  
Eric almost had to bend double to reach the scrap with his own tweezers. "Just a scrap, let's hope it leads us somewhere."

Calleigh finally sat down in a chair near the desk. Speed's admission had shaken her.  
Unobtrusively, she glanced sidelong at Ian, who slowly lifted one hand, tapped the air.  
There was a distinct musical "_ping_".  
The blonde stared at the moving fingers.  
As each finger struck the air, a note played.  
"Ian." Jason nudged him slightly.  
The dark-haired man opened one eye and his hand lowered.  
"Ah." He smiled at Calleigh. "Nervous habit."  
_Some kind of strange slight-of-hand._ Calleigh thought, dismissing the strange actions.  
Before the woman could speak, Ian's eyes widened slightly, and Calleigh could swear his eyes _glowed_. Turning from emerald to fiery green in the span of the moment. "Horatio..." he murmured, voice soft and painful. "No..."  
"Ian? You got a fix on H?" Speed moved closer and Jason stood up quickly.  
"He cannot breathe." Ian turned to Jason. "This one." He indicated the nearer warehouse, one nestled neatly three miles from the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. Emerald eyes flickered with lightning as the tall man spoke two words.  
"Move. Now."

Valera turned to Natalia and was just about to speak when Eric came in, Ryan on his heels.  
Looking from Eric to Natalia, she cleared her throat. "Uh, well...the rosary is pretty badly damaged. No DNA." She shook her head.  
"I've got something I need checked." Eric's dark brown eyes were focused, sharp. "Can you put a rush on it?" He held up the two small packages.  
"Sure. Let me finish on this rosary, it shouldn't take long..."  
"But..." Eric stopped when Ryan's elbow poked him in the side. Their eyes met, both gazes sharp and worried, and then looked back at Valera.  
"We'll wait." Natalia said, reaching out to lightly press a hand against Eric's shoulder.  
"Perfect." Valera said, trying to lighten the mood.  
Unfortunately, the tension that radiated from all four CSIs diminished not one bit.

_Whump-whump-whump_...  
Horatio was semi-conscious, dimly aware that he was in a tight, somehow comforting space. Walls all around him, nothing coming in, silence except for the steady, rhythmic pulse of the distant fan.  
It was so simple.  
Just stop fighting, relax, let go...the voices would stop, there would be silence...  
Once more, his mind turned to the comforting images of his team, his family - and stopped, focusing on one.  
_Calleigh_...

Jason led the other three in a sprint down the streets to the one warehouse that they had isolated.  
At the sight of a short man standing somewhat nervously outside the wide door, Jason paused, looked around, and saw several others running back and forth, as though in a state of panic.  
"Speed, you ready?" Jason's voice was low, pitched so soft that Calleigh barely heard the words.  
The other nodded once, and came over to stand next to the blonde.  
"Okay. Ian, give us a boost."  
Ian glanced once at Calleigh, then his right hand flicked in a practiced gesture.  
Calleigh's eyes widened as both Speed and Jason literally _flew_ straight up, reaching the roof from the ground in the span of seconds. A moment later, they cleared the side of the roof, and came down with eerie silence on the gravelled surface.  
_What_...? Calleigh looked over at Ian, who was staring at the doors fixedly.  
"Later." was all he said.

"The rosary has trait that's kind of strange." Valera said, looking over at Eric, who was all but vibrating with anxiety. If not for Ryan's hand on his arm, she wondered if the Cuban would just jump over the table and confiscate her microscope on the spot.  
"What?" asked Walter, looking over at Eric and Ryan, concerned, but trying to focus on the case.  
"The beads. They're mahogany."  
"Mahogany?" Natalia frowned. "That's an awfully expensive rosary."  
"Yeah, and distinctive." agreed Valera. "I'll run them..." One look at Eric made her immediately switch gears. "I'll check those samples, and then the rosary." She watched the CSIs exchange looks, then went on, "I'll make both priorities."  
"And rush them." Eric said, urgently.  
Ryan, Natalia, and Walter all avoided looking at each other, but they were all united on one thing - finding their friend, their boss, took priority over the other crime.  
Some things were just more vital than others.

Jason whipped out pieces of a rifle from his backpack, screwing them together with the ease of long practice, as he lay prone on the roof.  
Speed was crouched down next to him, his own weapon resting on his knee, binoculars loose around his neck..  
"How many?" he whispered.  
"So far I count nine." came the soft, careful reply. "I think I can get two in a shot in a second." Jason nodded to himself, then said, voice low, "Okay. Spot me." The dark-haired man waited a moment, then described locations, guessing distances, aware of the men moving back and forth. The blonde man rested a fingertip on the trigger, waiting, motionless, focused.  
A moment later, there was a near-silent _pop_! and two men fell like stones.  
The barrel moved fractionally, and another man went down.  
Speed couldn't help but fidget as Jason systematically picked off the men, most of whom stopped to crouch over their downed comrades for a fatal moment.  
Only one remained, and as he made a break for the door, Jason whispered, "Bang!", and his target went down clutching the doorknob.

Calleigh stared fixedly at Ian. What she had just seen defied everything science had taught her.  
That wasn't a parlor trick, that was something else.  
What, she wasn't sure, but it was not smoke-and-mirrors.  
Ian's gaze was focused on those doors, and after a moment, Speed popped up, gestured an all clear, and disappeared behind the raised edge of the roof.  
Ian took Calleigh's shoulder and whispered, "We have to get in there. Now."  
When he sprinted for the door, she threw her logic to the wind and ran after him.

Horatio was aware the sounds and movement had stopped.  
He didn't move.  
His focus had faded to a blurry emptiness.  
All had to do was close his eyes. All he had to do was give up.  
Breath rattling weakly through his aching lungs, he struggled to hang on.  
Just a little longer.  
Just a little longer...

Ian charged through the warehouse like a madman, and Calleigh looked over to see Jason and Speed running down the upper office steps after him.  
Without breaking stride, Ian's course led him to an air grate that was slightly ajar.  
With little effort, he tore the grate out of the wall and tossed it several feet, pulling his body up.  
"Horatio!" he called. "_Horatio!_"

Someone was calling his name.  
A trick? A trap?  
His eyes closed again, not wanting to move, not wanting to think, only wanting the feel of walls around him.  
He uttered a soft sound, something between a groan and a sigh.  
When would the noise stop?  
It was too _loud_...

Cursing in an unidentified language, Ian dropped back to the ground.  
"I know he's in there, but he won't trust me." _Ah, but that hurts_. he admitted, silently. "I could drag him out, but I think that might do more harm than good."  
"I think Calleigh might be able to reach him." said Speed, bent over, hands on his knees, gasping from the sprint.  
"An excellent proposition." agreed Ian, turning to Calleigh, urgency in his eyes.  
"Horatio's in there?" The open air duct was dark, and she was glad when Speed passed her a penlight.  
"Yes." Ian's tone was absolutely sure.  
"Give me a boost." Calleigh said, and felt herself lift up to the duct, a Bluetooth headset pressed into her hand.  
Crawling in, setting the small headset on her ear as she moved, she called, "Horatio?"

Now he was hallucinating.  
He was suffocating, he hurt, he was cold, and now his mind was playing tricks on him.  
Horatio squeezed his eyes shut, murmuring a soft apology to any ears that would listen.  
He felt his tenuous grip on life slipping, and suddenly he didn't care.  
It would soon all be over.  
He feared suddenly that he would be found utterly unfit for Heaven.  
_Will I wander the world as a wraith, or suffer the flames of Hell?_ His mind sparked painfully with those thoughts.

"Horatio! Please, it's Calleigh! Answer me!" Moving through the duct was a tight fit, and the place was a maze. Shafts went up, and downward slopes ran in twisting, narrow paths.  
Was he hurt? Unconscious?  
She refused to consider the last, and most permanent, option.  
Banging into a wall, she let out an involuntary yelp and backed up, turned around, and called his name again.

...? Horatio managed to open his eyes. He had heard a sound. A beautiful sound.  
It came again, louder, and he found himself responding weakly, "Calleigh?"  
That was his voice! Calleigh followed the wall, the sound of those familiar, velvet tones. "Horatio! Let me hear your voice, Handsome!"  
_Come on, Horatio, stay with me, I'm almost there_...

He managed to lift his head just slightly, and managed one last sound.  
One last word.  
One more moment.  
"Calleigh!"  
Calleigh rounded the corner and saw the slumped form near the large fan.  
Shouting, "Horatio!" the Southern blonde scrambled to his side, lifting his hand to feel his pulse.  
It was alarmingly weak.  
She felt him trembling, heard his faint breathing, as though each breath was an agony.  
His eyes opened, sapphire depths filled with pain, then flickering with recognition.  
He shuddered, but she caught his whispered, gentle, "Ma'am..."  
"I found him!" she shouted, into the headset, heard Ian's tense reply.  
"How is he?"  
"Bad." Calleigh tried to lift the redhead up a little, heard him gasp, and frantically tried to keep him from falling to the side.  
"Jason's coming. Keep him awake, Calleigh. Don't let him lose consciousness!"  
Calleigh's hands found Horatio's face, and she felt the chill radiating from his pale skin.  
"Open your eyes. Come on, Handsome, open your eyes for me!"  
Horatio's eyes slowly opened, and he struggled to focus. His pupils were dilated down to pinpricks, and the light from her penlight produced little response.  
"Calleigh..." he whispered. With enormous effort, he lifted one hand. Fingertip light against her cheek, he caught the teardrop. "Don't...cry...it's okay..."  
"Horatio Caine, don't you dare die on me!" Calleigh ordered, as tears began to stream down her cheeks.  
"Calleigh..."  
"Hang on, okay? Help's coming. Horatio, look at me!"  
His head was dropping, exhausted, then he forced himself to look at her. His eyes were barely focused, full of pain.  
And so very sad.  
"I'm sorry." he whispered, tremors going up and down his spine.  
He was about to close his eyes again when Calleigh shook his shoulder, eyes meeting his, determined that _he would not die_.  
She heard a rattle, and Jason, half-crouched and moving with considerable speed, charged into the duct.  
Without a word, he dropped the backpack, and lifted Horatio's head, staring into his eyes.  
"He's been drugged." the young man said, and Calleigh pulled the semi-conscious redhead's upper body into her arms.  
Jason crouched down and checked Horatio's weak pulse, his struggles to breathe. "Calleigh, we need to get him to medical help. No, strike that. We need medical help to come to _him_." his voice was urgent. "Would your friend Doctor Woods help us, without running to the authorities?"  
"Yes." Calleigh felt terror throttling her, horror as the man who held her heart struggled to simply breathe.  
"Okay." Jason made an adjustment to his headset and said, "Ian, we're gonna bring him out, but he's been drugged. Not sure by what. We need a doctor, and I think Alexx Woods can help us. Could you stage a kidnapping? Great. On my way."  
Calleigh's stare didn't even slow the young man down as he reached around and struggled for a grip under each of Horatio's arms.  
To her surprise, the lean CSI resisted, breathing becoming even more labored.  
"Listen, Lieutenant - you're really sick, I know you don't want to get out of this place, I know you want to stay where you feel safe, but your team needs you. Your family. Horatio? Come on, buddy, don't give up..."  
"Horatio, I need you to stay with me." Calleigh was struggling to not simply break down completely.  
The downed CSI was still, no longer resisting, as Jason pulled him over Calleigh's lap and began to move back down the duct, quickly but efficiently.  
Calleigh, feeling more helpless than she had felt in her life, followed after.  
She ignored the tears streaming down her cheeks.


	7. Holding On

LOST SON OF AVALON

by Shadewynde

Chapter Seven: _Holding On_

"Oh, I am very weary, Though tears no longer flow; My eyes are tired of weeping, My heart is sick of woe."  
- Anne Bronte

Doctor Alexx Woods was just getting out of her car when a distinctive baritone spoke softly behind her.  
"Doctor Woods."  
The beautiful black woman spun around, white medical coat flapping slightly in the faint wind. The sun caught her red blouse and cast shade across the charcoal grey slacks. "Who are you?" her dark eyes flashed as she regarded the dark-haired man a few inches from her.  
"Do you care about Horatio Caine?" The voice was steady and low, the emerald eyes revealing an intensity that was almost frightening.  
Alexx froze. "Horatio?" her voice was instantly concerned.  
"I need your help, for you to come with me. Right now."  
"What's happened?"  
"He's dying." _He will not die! I will not let him die!_ "He was drugged, and he needs immediate care."  
Alexx was immediately focused the horrible idea of Horatio Caine dying. "Where? When?" she demanded, mind processing the information at speed.  
"Not important. I only have symptoms: pinprick pupils, lowered body temperature, difficulty breathing, intermittent consciousness." The man's quick recitation was almost sharp.  
"That's an opioid, maybe heroin..."  
"What will you need?"  
"I'd have to have an opioid antagonist, such as naloxone or naltrexone..." Alexx replied, after a moment, eyes haunted. "I'd have to give multiple doses, Narcan takes a while to metabolize."  
She felt an arm go around her, and the parking lot winked out and was replaced by the inside of the drug locker.  
"What the hell..."  
"It saves time. Get what you need, Doctor." The man's gaze flicked once to the door. "Quickly."  
Alexx had about a thousand questions, but instead turned to the vials, plucked out three, and shoved them and a package of hypodermics into her pockets, along with a small bag of cotton swabs and a package of alcohol wipes.  
Again that strange flicker in-and-out, followed by three more, and she was in another parking lot - a warehouse?  
"Follow me." The man headed quickly for the door, the very worried former-ME in tow.

Jason had Horatio out of the duct, gently leaning the redhead back against the wall, settling him into a sitting position.  
Calleigh knelt down next to the semi-conscious man and whispered, "Oh, Horatio." Her eyes still stung with tears. "Stay with me, Handsome. Come on, open your eyes again. Please?"  
Ian came back in, and Calleigh felt a sense of relief as Alexx came into view behind him.  
"Oh my God." Alexx's voice came out in a gasp. Her eyes widened as she stared at Horatio's still form.  
Nudging Jason out of the way, the doctor placed a gentle hand on her friend's neck, feeling the weak pulse.  
Though tears were in her eyes, Alexx said briskly, "Horatio, I'm going to give you an injection, it will help..."  
The weak voice that replied was a ghost of Horatio's normal velvet tones. "No...drugs..."  
Alexx took his arm gently and spoke sternly, "Horatio Caine, you listen to me! This isn't your fault, and you need help, right now. So no arguing, you just sit there and let us help you, you hear me?"  
Horatio's head dropped, and Alexx checked his pulse.  
"His heart's stopped! Help me!" She felt the blonde man kneel beside her as they lay Horatio flat on the floor.  
Alexx saw him working on restarting the still heart, and Alexx started to breathe for the unconscious man.  
"Horatio!" Calleigh's voice came out as a sob.  
Ian stood watching, hands clenched, eyes bright, as their frantic efforts seemed to produce little result.

Eric was still almost vibrating as Valera looked up, from the microscope.  
"This is from a white silk garment of some kind." she said, scratching her head puzzledly. "Really well sewn, and I'd say hand-made."  
"Like for a priest." Ryan said, his voice taking on a sharp, alert edge.  
Eric's scowl only deepened. "We got a link, think it'll get us a search warrant?" he asked, to no-one in particular.  
"Well, the other fiber is black silk. Similar components, but I don't know if it's conclusive yet."  
"Let's talk to Tripp." Eric was determined. He disliked Father Andozza, but despite his irritation, he could still see logically enough to be sure that the priest was hiding something important to their investigation.

The gentle swirl of light flickered into Horatio's eyes, and he looked around, bracing himself for the harsh judgment he was sure awaited him.  
_ I must be dead_, he thought, wearily.  
"No, Horatio...and you're certainly not damned." The warm tones came from a figure that coalesced in front of him.  
A beautiful woman, with dark hair and eyes. She was smiling.  
"Marisol." his voice was unsteady.  
"Yes." She said nothing else, simply stepped forward and held him.  
His arms wrapped around her and he rested his cheek against her hair, closing his eyes.  
"Horatio, it's all right. I'm all right." Marisol soothed. She took his face in her hands, looked into his eyes. "You can let me go, Horatio. It's all right. You deserve to love, and be loved..."  
"Marisol...I'm sorry..." Now his voice was choked with pain.  
"Oh, Horatio." she hugged him again. "Listen to me. I'm all right. It was never your fault." Marisol rocked him gently. "I want you to listen to me. You have to go back. And you can let me go, Horatio. I'll always love you, no matter what. I want you to let yourself love again. I want you to let yourself be happy."  
Horatio's tormented sapphire eyes met her's and he reached out to lightly touch her cheek.  
She covered his hand with her's, leaned into it.  
"Live, Horatio. You deserve so much, and when your time on Earth is truly over, believe me - you have absolutely _nothing_ to fear."  
Horatio had just enough time to whisper "I love you" before the light glowed a surprisingly soothing bright.

"Come on, sugar, don't do this!" Alexx said, and Jason pushed down on Horatio's still chest.  
Calleigh felt her shoulders shaking, vision blurred by tears, and was grateful when Speed's arms wrapped around her, holding her back to his chest.  
Horatio's sudden, slight intake of breath sounded like a roar of triumph as Alexx shouted, "I've got a pulse!"  
Lifting the pale body, Jason braced Horatio's back against his chest.  
Alexx unwound her stethoscope in one smooth motion, placing the earpieces in her ears and listening to the steadying pulse of Horatio's heart.  
Ian closed his eyes and let out a soft breath of air, shoulders drooping slightly with the weight of his concern.  
Calleigh didn't even think as she reached over and hugged Horatio tightly, tears drying on his jacket. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably, as she struggled to fight down her tears. He was alive. He was breathing.  
It went through her mind like a mantra - _he's alive, he's breathing_.  
"Horatio, I need you to open your eyes. Okay?" Alexx's voice was both soothing and commanding.  
It seemed an eternity before sapphire-blue eyes flickered in the lights of the warehouse.  
He managed a slight, pained smile for them, before he fell limply backward.  
"Hold on, Horatio." Alexx said, compassion and concern in her voice as she checked his pulse again. "We've got you."  
She took a deep breath. "He needs IV fluids, and about a month of down time."  
"Yeah, with H try for a few days and a couple salads." Speed's sardonic voice earned him a thump on the shoulder from Calleigh.  
Jason sank back against the wall with a faint whistle. "Thank God for miracles." he muttered.  
"Let us handle getting what supplies you need, Doctor Woods." Ian turned away, head down, eyes furious behind sheltering lids.  
Alexx looked up and registered Speed for the first time. Her mouth fell open and she drew in a sharp breath. "Timmy, thank God you're safe..." she whispered, the tears in her eyes amplifying.  
"How's H?" Speed shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.  
"I'm not really sure. He needs to be in a hospital."  
"No." Ian had not turned around. "Horatio would be a target, and I will not lose him to their pitiful little war."  
"War?" Calleigh and Alexx asked at the same time, then looked at each other.  
"Jason, go and - ah - procure - what Doctor Woods requires." Ian's voice took on an authoritative tone.  
"Right. No problem." Jason rose, patted Calleigh on the shoulder, and lifted an eyebrow.  
Speed sighed. "I'm in. Let's go." he responded.  
Before anyone could say anything, Jason and Speed headed out the door.  
"You never asked me my full name." Ian was still staring absently into space, back to them.  
Calleigh looked up, brow furrowed. "You're right." she replied, after a moment. Then blurted, "Why are you doing all this?"  
"My name is Ian Caine." He turned his head so only his eyes were visible. "What man would not challenge the world for their only son?"


	8. Trail of Madness

LOST SON OF AVALON  
by Shadewynde

Chapter Eight: _The Trail of Madness_

"The more I see, the less I know for sure."

― John Lennon  
While Valera turned her attention to the nearly-melted rosary, Eric and Ryan met with Tripp.  
To be more accurate, they almost pounced on the detective the moment he stepped from the elevator.  
"We found some fibers we think are from a priest's robe, and Father Andozza looks awfully guilty to me." Ryan said, aware of the harsh tension of his Cuban friend.  
"I don't know that it'll get us a warrant." Frank said, shaking his head when Eric seemed ready to explode. "I've got every patrol I can muster looking for Horatio, nada."  
"We're spinning our wheels, here." Eric said, frustrated.  
"Yeah, and for all we know, H could be running out of time."

Jason peered around the hospital corner.  
He was clad in green scrubs and a doctor's white coat and looked quite inconspicuous. That fact helped him slide from station to station without being noticed.  
Looking down at his watch, he counted down the seconds until the rotation changed.  
Slipping into the crowded hall, he followed a tall doctor until he could duck into the nurse's station.  
He kept shifting people, all the way to an unattended supply cart, where he gathered up saline, IV bags, and a small stash of useful implements, stashing them in his coat and smoothing them down.  
Jason counted ten, glanced once over his shoulder, and stepped back and away. Sauntering casually past security, he trotted down the stairs, and followed a small group of nurses and residents into the parking lot.  
Whistling to himself, he made his way to the edge of the lot, and ducked behind a series of trashbins.  
Speed was still there, waiting with Jason's backpack dangling from one hand.  
"That was quick."  
"Yeah, well, it's not like Fort Knox." Jason grinned slightly, taking the backpack and shoving the medical supplies into it. "Of course, between yours truly and Fort Knox - my money ain't on the Fort."  
"Ye-ah." Speed smiled faintly in reply.  
Jason smacked him on the arm, in a friendly way. "C'mon, let's get back before Ian pops a blood vessel." His grin was mischievous.

"Son?" Calleigh looked at Ian as though he had suddenly grown a second head. "That's impossible."  
"Why?" The enigmatic, dark-haired man met her gaze, eyebrow raised.  
"What?"  
"Why is that impossible?" The voice was calm and even.  
"Well...for one thing, Horatio's parents are dead." Calleigh was scowling.  
In the background, Alexx was carefully checking the still form, murmuring reassuringly as she did so.  
Ian almost winced. "Horatio's mother is dead. I am not." he said, softly.  
"But you don't look that much older than him." Calleigh suddenly wasn't sure. The man didn't register as crazy. But this was...  
_What?_ she asked herself. _What if he's telling the truth?_ _What if he_ isn't _crazy?_  
Jason and Speed came hurrying in as Calleigh studied Ian's face.  
There was something very vaguely similar to Horatio in his features. Not something that was easy to put a finger on, just...something.  
Maybe _I'm_ going crazy. she thought wryly.  
Ian half-turned to regard the two returning men, and waited.  
"Got everything. Always knew spendin' some time as a medic would come in handy." Jason grinned irrepressibly.  
Alexx stood up. "I need that saline. Narcan is tough on the body, and I'm not risking any more stress on his system." she said, firmly.  
Jason pulled out cold gel-packs from his backpack and started passing the doctor a variety of items.  
The black woman gave the younger man a sharp look, then knelt back down to tend to her friend and now, patient.  
When she rolled up Horatio's left sleeve, Calleigh had just turned around, and and her eyes widened and she stifled a gasp.  
The fair skin was marked with old, old scars.  
Deep ones, old ones.  
Painful ones.

Sara was almost ready to explode.  
She stood still for a moment, aware of Greg and Nick watching her, then forced out, "Gil knew Caine. His last e-mail was to him."  
Nick was startled. "He knew a kidnap victim? Okay, that's just too big a coincidence for me."  
"Wait, Grissom knew this guy? What's going on?" Greg was shaking his head.  
"Gil never made it back to work. Twenty-four hours ago." Sara stared at the screen, not really seeing the words. "And one man from that hospital vanished around the same time." "It says here that the missing man had two visitors from about and hour before the patient is listed as checking out." Greg noted, eyes scanning over the notes. "So the guy disappears, this Caine disappears around the same time, after Grissom leaves Caine an email?" Nick shook his head. "Something is going on." Sara's heart suddenly clenched as her mind focused on one, frightening scenario. "Gil...I think he's been kidnapped." She was on her feet before she could think. "I'm going out there. They have to know something. Greg's voice stopped her. "We need to contact them first. We can co-operate, get help..."  
Sara turned back, hesitated.  
"I'll make the call." Nick offered, his own concern raised. "We'll find him, Sara. We'll find him."

Eric took several deep breaths, struggling to control his roiling emotions.  
He faced one thing squarely: he hadn't lost Calleigh. He knew that. You couldn't lose a heart that already belonged to someone else.  
And he knew that his sister would have blessed the bond between Horatio and Calleigh, as he did.  
Did he feel a sense of sadness? Yes.  
Anger? No.  
In fact, what he did feel was a sense of _hope_.  
And worry, now.  
The man he considered a father - and a brother - was missing.  
The clues led one way, and the law led another.  
He hated the feeling of helplessness.  
Ryan came hurrying around the corner, and would have run into his friend had he not backpedaled fast.  
Eric looked over at him, a question in his eyes.  
"Tripp has cars looking, but I don't think the judge is going to give us that warrant." The frustration in his voice was clear.  
"I hope Calleigh has found something..." He stopped, a terrible thought occurred to him. "Ryan, have you seen her?"  
"Calleigh? No, not since she left to search H's condo..." His own thoughts turned the same direction as Eric's. "Oh, man, you don't think...?"  
"She's missing too. God, someone may be gunning for both of them!" The Cuban could only clench his teeth. Jerking his cell phone from his pocket, Eric quickly dialed Calleigh's number, scowled, then said almost angrily, "Nothing. She could be in a dead zone." The two CSIs eyes met, then the dark-skinned young man continued, "We better get over there."  
"Let's go."

Alexx had set up a makeshift IV, and was listening to Horatio's heart again. She frowned, and looked over at Speed and Jason, who were crouched down next to and across from her respectively. "His blood pressure's too low, and heart rhythm is still off. I don't like this at all. I'm afraid he still might slip into shock."  
Jason looked up, rose quickly, and trotted toward the back of the structure, looked around for a few seconds, then returned with an old, battered blanket.  
Wordlessly, he passed it to Alexx, who tucked it around Horatio's body.  
Calleigh was still watching Ian, trying to get a sense of the man who claimed to be unconscious CSI's father.  
Speed was frowning as Alexx looked over at the dark-haired man standing next to Calleigh.  
"Timmy, who are these people?" she asked, softly.  
The former CSI looked at Jason, who shrugged silently, then back at the doctor. "Friends?" he tried, hopefully.  
Alexx leveled a stern gaze at Speed.  
Jason came to his rescue. "It's complicated." His ever-ready smile was back. "Just out to help Horatio here."  
The black woman looked back and forth between the two men.  
Calleigh heard the conversation and turned her own gaze onto Ian. "I'm going to go out on a limb and just agree you're telling the truth." she said, green eyes never wavering. "He almost died...and you knew he was in danger..." She tried to keep accusation out of her voice.  
For a split second, honest anguish flickered in Ian's emerald eyes. "I suspected. And you are correct, I should have acted more quickly. If I could take back many things, I would. If I could have been there for him long ago, I would. Regrets dog my steps, I fear. I cannot change what was, only what is. And hopefully will be."  
"You still haven't explained what is going on, or how..." Calliegh glanced back at Horatio again, then looked at Ian.  
"How I lifted two men twenty-seven feet without touching them?"  
"Ummm...well, yes..."  
"I'm afraid you will not believe the truth."  
"Try me."  
Ian's expression was rueful. "Magic."

Passing by the Trace Lab on the way out, a phone rang, and without really thinking, Eric stepped in, picked it up, and said, "Delko."  
The voice on the other end said, "This is Nick Stokes, Las Vegas Crime Lab."  
A little surprised, Eric's expression didn't change. "Eric Delko. How can I help you?" he asked, mind on his search.  
"We think a former CSI was kidnapped right after he left an email to your Lab's lead." Nick explained. "There's a few hours lapse, but he was taken at around the same time Caine was."  
"Another CSI?" Eric was really worried now. Ryan looked up at him, questioningly, from the Lab's door.  
"Yeah." The Cuban looked over at his friend, and continued, "We're working on finding H - Lieutenant Caine. We think another CSI may have been taken a couple of hours ago."  
There was a pause, before their Las Vegas colleague said, "We're going to send a couple of ours down there, since your site is the most recent abduction. Sara Grissom and Greg Sanders. They'll be there in about fourty-five minutes."  
Eric fought down his own desire to solve this, to get out there and just find Horatio. "We'll meet them." he said, reluctantly, and motioned to Ryan. "Thanks." Nick said, as Eric just nodded, not really thinking that the other man couldn't see the gesture, and both hung up. Picking up the phone again, and dialed Dispatch. "This is Eric Delko, CSI. I need two officers at 3330 Northeast 190th Street, Aventura Marina II. Observation only." Once he had confirmation, he hung up and paused a moment.  
"What's up?" Ryan asked, stepping to Eric's side.  
"You're not going to believe this..."

Calleigh looked skeptically at Ian. "Magic?" Her voice was laced with disbelief.  
"I suppose that is the best way to put in English."  
"And how else would you describe it?" Maybe the man really was crazy...  
"_Draíochta._" Ian's voice took on a lilting timbre.  
"Dra-what?"  
"Technically, Irish for magic."  
Calleigh was confused now. "Irish?"  
Ian's dark eyebrow lifted. "Would you prefer it from another source? I assure you, that is about as close to the word as I can speak."  
"So you're telling me you can use magic." Calliegh was still not sure of the tall man's sanity.  
"Think of magic less as waving arms around and chanting and more as using a force that has always been there." Ian suggested. "It is a talent to be nurtured, like any other."  
The CSI's eyes were still skeptical.  
"Unfortunately, the gift is also exceedingly rare. Even among my own kind..."  
"Kind?"  
"Not really important at the moment. Magic is a force, and while a few manifestations exist in the physical sense, the true ability to use it is close to dead." The emerald eyes flickered with a moment of sadness. "I thought I was the last. I thought that it would end with me." A shake of his head. "I was wrong."  
Calleigh simply stared at him. The explanation didn't really convince her.  
"I don't expect blind belief." Ian extended his right hand, palm up, and moved his fingers slightly. A flicker of flame danced there suddenly, glowing with heat and light. "A simple spell. _Tine_. Fire. More specifically, _tine beag_. Little fire."  
"Stage magicians can do that." Calleigh was doubtful, but it shook her stubborn disbelief a little.  
"I am neither on a stage nor playing a prank." said Ian, with a faint sigh. A swift flick of his hand, and the tiny flame disappeared. He looked over at Alexx, who was hanging a saline bag on the improvised IV rack Jason had rigged.  
Calleigh's gaze traveled to the bag, down to Horatio's arm, which Alexx was wiping with an alcohol swab. With practiced ease, she used hypodermic to inject the Narcan. The IV was attached to the other arm, steadily dripping saline. Though there was no reaction from the redhead laying still on the floor, Alexx examined him again and blew out a sharp breath. "He's breathing, heart seems stable, but he's running on willpower more than anything else." she said, looking over at the younger woman with maternal concern. "We really need more support for him."  
"How well is he responding, Doctor?" Ian's voice was soft, but there was a tinge of urgency there.  
"Well, considering he's been dosed, beaten, and probably hasn't eaten in a couple of days or so, he's doing better than I had hoped."  
"Beaten?" Calleigh asked, startled.  
"His arm is covered with bruises, and I have a feeling they're all over him." Alexx's eyes flashed. "Does someone want to tell me what is going on?"  
"I'm afraid Horatio has just become the target of a group who would like to not only see him dead, but in considerable pain beforehand." Ian's eyes flashed with lightning. "This time, they have awoken a fury that will be their doom. They have hurt him," his voice dropped, becoming cold and almost sinister. "And I shall have them beg for Hell before their miserable lives are done."


	9. United Front

LOST SON OF AVALON  
by Shadewynde

Chapter Nine: _United Front_

"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple." ― Dr. Seuss

Though Eric and Ryan were both tense to the point of explosion, they were somewhat comforted by the knowledge that two police officers would be watching Horatio's condo. Now they were standing outside the helipad, waiting for the helicopter from the airport to arrive.  
The aircraft appeared a few minutes later, and Ryan shielded his eyes as it came in for a smooth landing.  
Moments later, a dark-haired woman and younger brown-haired man climbed out, keeping low to avoid the still-moving rotor blades above them.  
The woman was dressed in dark, neat clothing, the man in a pair of light grey pants and a white, button-down short-sleeved shirt.  
Both pairs met at the edge of the area, and Sara shouted over the noise, "Any news?"  
"No." Eric also had to raise his voice as the helicopter lifted off again, kicking up a small windstorm. "We have patrols out looking, but so far, nothing."  
"Sara Grissom." Sara was more determined than ever to keep her last name. She nodded at her companion. "Greg Sanders."  
"Eric Delko, Ryan Wolfe." Eric replied, and motioned for them to follow.  
"H's last location was our parking lot, Calleigh was checking his condo when she disappeared." Ryan said, grateful shouting was no longer necessary.  
"Has anyone else checked the condo?" asked Greg.  
"Not yet." Eric was rueful. That had been their next step.  
"Lab first, then the condo?" Sara suggested, and Eric opened his mouth to say they had already checked, then closed it.  
"We've processed the parking lot." Ryan jumped in. "We found some fibers, we have a suspect in mind, but not enough for a warrant."  
"Then let's check the condo." Greg said, shifting his kit to his other hand.  
Horatio was still unconscious, and Alexx was beginning to worry. She didn't like someone - especially Horatio - in such a fragile state not be in a hospital, but her awareness of the two strangers warned her that was unlikely.  
She gently shook the still redhead's shoulder, and his eyelids fluttered a little, though his eyes did not open.  
"What happened to you, Horatio? Who did this to you?" she whispered, voice vibrating with concern.  
Calleigh looked once more at Ian, then came over to kneel next to Speed. Without thinking, she took Horatio's hand in hers, gently rubbing in the hopes of banishing that terrible chill that permeated from his fair skin.  
She hated seeing him so injured, tried to fight down her own fury at the abuse he had suffered, watched his face for any expression.  
He would have hated being so fragile, would have fought to force himself into action.  
If she could just get him to open his eyes...  
Her mind veered as she thought about those expressive, sapphire eyes, how they could take in everything at a glance. How they could comfort, how they could focus like twin lasers, how they could command.  
"Wake up, Handsome. You have to wake up." she whispered.  
Jason suddenly leapt to his feet when he heard a noise, whipping a pistol from inside his shoulder-holster as Ian turned toward the sound as well.  
Two men were coming in, one stopped entirely, stammering something in a broken, Latin-sounding language.  
The others had difficulty seeing the movement as Jason's hand came up and two _cracks_ rang out.  
Both the newcomers were dead before they hit the ground and as the blonde's grey-blue eyes scanned the area, Alexx almost yelled, "What the _hell_...!"  
"We gotta move. This place ain't secure, and for all I can tell, they could try to come in from the roof or the front. I'm damn good, but I can't hold off a whole army with pistols and pea-shooters!"  
Ian looked at Calleigh a moment, then gently reached into Horatio's jacket, retrieving his trademark sunglasess.  
"Stay with him. Calleigh, please come with me." His green eyes flashed as he said softly, "They wish to chase Horatio Caine..."  
A flicker, and suddenly Horatio's form was standing there, sunglasses in hand. He absently placed the shades over his still-emerald eyes. "Then let them chase Horatio Caine."  
He gently took Calleigh's shoulder as she reflexively rose, reluctantly releasing Horatio's hand.  
The _doppelganger_ pushed her gently but quickly out the door.  
"Jason, Speed...take care of him and give Doctor Woods all the aid she requires." It was Horatio's voice, but more steely, less velvet.  
Calleigh was staring, disbelieving, at Ian. In Horatio's form, but...not at all the man she knew so well.  
Walking purposefully out of the building in front of the blonde, he paused a moment, then nudged her to the left.  
"What...how..." Calleigh's voice was a low hiss, frustrated and confused.  
Though her companion matched Horatio's stride, his body language was all wrong. He didn't radiate the kind of feral elegance Horatio did.  
_Well_, she thought wryly to herself,_ no-one has that kind of silent grace_.  
"We will go back toward your Lab, and those that follow will find me a far crueler target than my son could ever be."

Outside Horatio's condo, the four CSIs were carefully checking the stairwell, brushing for prints and moving step-by-step closer to the broken window.  
Sara saw a small speck of dark liquid under her penlight. "I've got something." she called, not looking up. Reaching into her kit, she withdrew a swab, carefully dipped it into the spot, and then quickly went through the process of testing for human blood.  
Pink. It was almost instantly pink, as the other three joined her.  
She dipped another swab into the small circle of red and lid it into a narrow evidence box.  
"Human blood." she said, seeing Eric and Ryan look at one another, and Greg move closer.  
"We got a print from the rail." said Eric, nodding to Greg, who was carefully handling the fingerprint lifter.  
"We need to get this back to the Lab." said Ryan.  
"What about the inside of the condo?" Sara looked up, dark eyes sharp.  
"The uniforms checked the door, and the only prints there are Calleigh's and H's."  
"H?" Greg asked, puzzled.  
"Horatio." Eric said, standing up. "Most of us call him H."  
Sara and Greg looked at one another, but Ryan was adding, "We'll have to get a key from the Lab. Breaking down the door would just scatter evidence, and we've got the print and the blood to test."  
" You don't want to go in there." Greg observed. "It must be hard..."  
"Yeah, well H is pretty private. I...we...don't want to trample over that unless we have to."  
"And we've got evidence." Sara understood, and was grateful when Greg squeezed her shoulder. "My husband's the same way."  
Eric blew out a breath. "If what we've got here doesn't lead us anywhere, we can check inside." he offered.  
"Let me check that window." Ryan said, carefully climbing up the stairwell. After a few minutes, he returned with a small packet, clearly holding glass shards.  
Though all four CSIs wondered what lay in the condo, they also all understood privacy.  
Leaving the two Miami-Dade police officers with orders to not let anyone in without clearance, all four settled into the Hummer and started back to the Lab.

Gilbert Grissom woke up coughing. A strange smell was still strong in his nostrils, and he fought his rebellious stomach until it settled a bit.  
"Awake at last." the voice was cold as Gil blinked up at the speaker, then had to close his eyes against the bright light.  
As it had for the last few months, his bones ached in protest when he tried to move. His arms were tied down, and pain lanced up and down his body in now-familiar waves.  
"Who are you? Where am I?" Gil's own voice sounded strange to him.  
His only answer was a sharp, painful blow to the stomach, which almost made him retch.  
"I ask the questions here, blasphemer!" The voice had risen a little, in anger. "You consort with evil, and you must pay! Tell us where we can find the demon and it's servants, or you shall suffer!"  
"I don't know what you're talking about." Three more blows, in quick succession, and Gil had to grit his teeth.  
"Where?!" roared the voice.  
_I don't know_, _and I wouldn't tell you if I did_. Gil thought, defiantly.  
A bout of coughing brought up blood, and he had to struggle to stay conscious as black spots danced before his eyes.  
"You know this Caine, tell us all you know!" The unseen speaker was yelling now, starting to lose control.  
_ Horatio?_ he thought, bewildered. _What do they want with him?_  
Yelling and threats sounded, but fortunately, no more blows landed.  
Gil felt tired, very tired. He almost wondered if the bone cancer eating away at him would get him before his captors could.

Jason's Bluetooth headset buzzed and he reached up and tapped it once. "Yeah, Marc, whattaya have?" he asked.  
Speed looked up, questioning, as Jason's expression changed.  
"_What?_ Oh, man, are you sure?"  
A faint, tinny, almost-inaudible response came through, and the young blonde man groaned.  
"Okay, listen. Make like a shadow, keep low, and hold your position until I get there."  
With a grumble, Jason looked at Speed. "We got a problem. I'm gonna go solve it. Won't be long. Keep your gun ready - see someone you don't know, drill a hole through them." he said, rising and grabbing his backpack.  
"What's happened?" Speed asked.  
"Remember that guy that Horatio last e-mailed?"  
Speed's eyes turned thoughtful. "Ah...Grissom, right?"  
"Yeah. They got him, and I'm gonna go get him back." Jason rose, sketched a salute, and started out the door. "And don't hesitate, bro. One shot, one kill. Off I go! Whee!" The blonde bounded out, and Speed looked at Alexx and sighed.  
"Where did you find him?" asked the doctor, looking up.  
"Well, he kinda found me, actually." Speed's voice was dry. "Haven't been able to lose him since."  
"I'm not sure I want to know." Alexx managed a smile.

Eric, Ryan, Sara, and Greg all but stormed the Trace Lab, drawing interested glances from the techs moving back and forth on their various tasks.  
Valera glanced up in surprise and looked questioningly at Eric, who quickly introduced, "CSIs Grissom and Sanders, from Las Vegas."  
"You have more evidence, right?" she said, putting down a slide and regarding the CSIs curiously.  
"Blood and glass." Sara replied, a little curtly. She was afraid Gil might be hurt out there, as well as sick, a continued weight that rumbled constantly in her mind.  
Greg looked over at his friend, his own gaze worried. He felt helpless and vaguely angry, the idea of Grissom being kidnapped was simply something he had never considered happening. Uncertain of his own feelings, he kept silent, feeling his thoughts tumbling around in his head. His gaze fixed on the other CSIs, wishing there was something he could test, analyze, _anything_ that would lead him to a man who was like a father to him.  
Valera's eyes turned to Eric, then Ryan, then back to Sara.  
Wordlessly she took the two packets from Ryan and carefully extracted the blood drop onto a waiting slide.  
"Not a lot to work with, but we might get a hit from CODIS." She slid it in, then looked into the microscope.  
Greg looked surreptitiously over at Sara, then back at Valera. He was concerned, and suddenly itched for his own lab, familiar territory. Lightly touching Sara's arm, their eyes met in shared concern.

Jason had once more taken to the rooftops, and was jumping from roof-edge to roof-edge with easy grace.  
It took him less than fifteen minutes to reach his destination.  
Dropping down a few feet, he spied yet another warehouse.  
_ Geez, an abandonded warehouse? Why not just put out a blinking neon sign that says "Villians Are Us"_?. he thought, glancing over at the crouched figure on the opposite end and approaching with characteristic stealth.  
Noting the brown-haired man's nervous grip on his pistol, Jason whispered, "Don't twitch."  
The man jumped, and Jason rolled his eyes in wry humor.  
"Uhmmm...sorry...I just..."  
"Easy, Marc. No worries, right?" Jason crouched down on the roof-edge, reached quickly into his backpack, and pulled out his binoculars.  
Looking alertly through them, he stared down at the trio at the door, and frowned to himself. He looked around, over the gap, and left and right.  
No movement, no guards.  
"Hmmmm. Three on the door, bet there's a couple inside at least."  
"I saw them carry in the man in the photograph." Marc said, still nervous. "He was out cold, and really pale." His fingertips twitched slightly as his own binoculars banged lightly into the side of the building.  
Wordlessly, Jason reached into his pack again, assembled his rifle, and peered down at the three figures. He lay prone in one easy movement, and attached his gun to the small stand. Waiting to memorize their movements, he reached without looking into his pocket, pulled out a Twizzler piece, and popped it into his mouth. Chewing meditatively, he took aim, waited one more moment, then fired once, saw the man go down, turned to the left, fired again, and once more. When all three men down, Jason disassembled the weapon, placed it back in his pack, swung the bag back over his shoulder, and turned back to his nervous companion.  
"Stay here, and keep down. Okay?" Jason shot the man a grin, reached the ladder, and swung down.  
He shot across the gap, scrambled up the other building, and made his way over to the top of the fan system.  
_Damn. No rooftop access._ he groaned, inwardly, after tugging on the sealed grating. _Clearly not concerned with fire codes. Great. Just great. Have to make a run in blind. Damn, damn, damn..._  
Jason went back down the ladder, and checked the side entrance. When the doorknob didn't turn, he reached in his pocket, pulled out two small pieces of metal, and pressed them into the lock. Twisting gently until he heard the click, he removed the small objects, and shoved the lockpicks back into their place.  
Pulling both pistols from either shoulder-holster, he moved down to a silent crouch, and waited a moment. _One...two...three..._  
Charging through the door, eyes alert for movement, he shot down two, one on either side. Felt a shot wing his shoulder, and fired again.

Gil heard the noise, looked to his side, and heard one more shot and a _thump_ as the man in front of him went down in a heap.  
He saw a young man come running down the stairs from the top level, shoving two pistols into their respective shoulder-holsters.  
"Hey, Doctor Grissom." the voice was light and cheerful. "Ready to bust out of here?" He easily pulled the bindings off the other man's arms, and offered him a hand up.  
Grissom tried to stand, and his legs started to give out. He fought down a cry of pain as agony tore through his body.  
Supporting Grissom with one arm around him, the newcomer said, "My name's Jason. We gotta motor outta here, before reinforcements decide to storm the place."  
"What..." Gil managed to choke out, around the blood in his mouth.  
"Can you walk?" Jason asked, looking back at the man leaning on him heavily.  
"I...no. I don't think so." Gil's voice was weak, and he had to swallow hard to continue. "Can barely move."  
"Okay, Doc, hang on." With a practiced heave, the younger man lifted Grissom over his shoulder and took off at a fast trot, ignoring the startled yelp.  
"May not be the smoothest ride, but hey, it's fast, right?" Jason's chuckle was cheerful as he broke into a run.  
Horatio uttered a nearly-silent sound, and Alexx quickly opened one eye with thumb and forefinger, noting the pupils responded slightly to the light.  
He regarded Alexx steadily as his eyes focused, then closed again. His other senses reported in, and he realized he was in a large area, shadowy - a warehouse. "H?" Speed asked, unable to keep the hope from his voice.  
The voice that replied was soft, but steady. "Speed...?" His eyes opened, and he stared at the younger man, gaze alert suddenly.  
Speed's breath came out in a whoosh. "Oh, man." he muttered. "Ummm...hi." It sounded awfully weak, all things considered.  
Horatio tried to sit up, but Alexx pushed him back down. "Oh no you don't, sugar. You just stay still." she said, sternly.  
"You're...alive." The words were liquid-velvet, concerned and puzzled.  
"Yeah, H. Listen, I'm sorry..." Speed rarely felt awkward, but under the redhead's searching gaze he felt positively tiny.  
Alexx listened to Horatio's heart, frowning in concentration, then sighed. "You need to lay still, Horatio. I've got another dose of Narcan for you, and I need you to to try and relax." she told him.  
"Heroin." The CSI reluctantly lay back, and frowned. "I thought I heard..."  
"Calleigh and Ian just left." Speed said, reassuringly.  
"Calleigh and who?" Horatio's gaze was alert and steady.  
"Ummm, that's a really _really_ long story." The dark-haired younger man shook his head.  
Horatio glanced at Alexx, the said, completely deadpan, "Apparently, I'm not going anywhere."


	10. Down But Not Out

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter Ten: _Down But Not Out_

by Shadewynde

"Be slow to fall into friendship, but when you are in, continue firm and constant."  
― Socrates

Horatio tried to sit up again, and Alexx gave a maternal snort before gently pushing him back down.  
"_Please_ be _still!_" the doctor's tone was almost scolding.  
"I'm fine, Alexx."  
"You are not fine, Horatio! You were..." Alexx's voice stopped and she had to swallow hard.  
"H, please just stay still a while, okay?" Speed shifted his feet, as his friend - and former boss' - gaze fixed on him.  
"What happened, Speed?" No accusation, not even justified anger.  
The concern was genuine, and it just made Speed's guilt level skyrocket.  
"I saw something on a case, H..." The dark-haired young man couldn't quite meet those intense sapphire eyes.  
Eyes that were more of a father than a boss.  
Speed had never hated the damn Feds more than he did at that moment.  
Horatio's head tilted a little, encouragingly, and the dam inside of Tim Speedle simply eroded beyond repair.  
"I'm sorry." Speed had to turn away, all sardonic wit gone. "The Feds, they..." He swallowed once, hard, then plunged on. "They needed a witness, and it all happened so fast. After I testified, they wouldn't let me come home. They wouldn't give me back my _life_..."  
"I'm sorry, Speed." Horatio's understanding lifted the pain some, and the hand that lightly gripped his arm raised Speed's spirits immeasurably.  
"No, H...it was damn...just _wrong_...!" Speed's hands were clenched. "When Jason and Ian brought me in, it was to help you. So I skipped."  
Horatio was taken aback.  
"Me?" _ That is so like you, H. To you, you ju_s_t_ _aren't important.  
_"Yeah." Speed was suddenly almost choked with a renewed, fierce affection and loyalty to the man. "You haven't really met them yet, but I've been helping them...uh...maneuver in close."  
"Horatio Caine, if you try to move again, so help me, I am gonna sit on you!" Alexx warned, as Horatio again looked ready to get up and start moving.

Calleigh forced herself to not look at Horatio's doppelganger, as Ian led her purpousely back toward the Lab. As they rounded a corner, a gun was suddenly in Ian's face.  
"Blasphemer!" the man raged, and his would-be target's hand moved sharply, coming up palm-out and sharply forward.  
The man was blown back a good ten feet, landing hard, gun spinning off to their right. Calleigh dove after it, as the Horatio-double hauled the man up by his neck.  
"You will tell me where your coven is, or I will rip out your heart and feed it to you." The icy, cold tones, marked with a vicious undertone, was so out of character for the man he resembled that Calleigh, now holding the .45 by it's handle, shivered.  
The dangling figure's eyes widened as Ian's head dipped slightly, eyes tipping over Horatio's sunglasses, and the captured man suddenly choked in pain.  
Ian snarled, "How many?"  
When the man clawed frantically at the iron grip, it only tightened. Blood trickled from the corner of the working mouth.  
"Ian, stop!" Calleigh caught the arm, found the muscles locked tight. "You're killing him!"  
"I intend to do that anyway, but there are many ways to die." The should-be-familiar face leaned in close, as the woman's green eyes widened. "Slowly or quickly? Your choice. How many?"  
"N-no m-m-more..." stuttered the man, voice weak. "All...d-dead..."  
Emerald eyes searched frightened dark ones, and there was a sudden, horrible crunch.  
Tossing the body aside as if it were less than garbage, there was another flicker and Ian shed his adopted image. Sliding Horatio's sunglasses carefully into his pocket, Ian met Calleigh's horrified gaze.  
"No fingerprints, I assure you." The lightly-accented voice was no longer an illusion of Horatio's. "Believe me, Calleigh - had he returned to his comrades, they would be back at that warehouse. And Horatio and the others in mortal danger."  
Calleigh had seen death. Sometimes it happened. But the cold rage of the enigmatic man before her chilled her.  
"I could have arrested him..."  
"And then what? In a few hours, he would be back. I but broke the chain before it could continue."  
"That was a human being, Ian!"  
A dark eyebrow raised. "If you can call him that."

The door opened, and Jason came in, a faintly complaining bundle over his shoulders. "Hi, guys! Miss me?" he asked, cheerfully.  
He trotted over to the trio and carefully lowered his burden to the floor.  
"New patient." The blonde said, indicating Gil, who was sitting up despite the pain.  
Gil looked over at the three, then his eyes fixed on the redhead still on the ground.  
"Horatio!" His voice was startled. "What...?"  
"Gil?" The CSI was equally taken aback. "Are you all right?"  
Gil's smile was bemused. "More or less." he replied, a little wryly, covering a wince at the now-familiar, gnawing pain.  
Jason settled down next to Alexx. "Hi, Horatio." he greeted. "How ya doin'?"  
"Better." Horatio's voice was steady, his gaze studied the other man thoughtfully. "And you are?"  
"Just call me Jason. I'd shake your hand, but Alexx here might break it." He grinned. "Doc? And I mean the nice lady about to administer a nice, tranquilizing right hook."  
Alex snorted. "He seems better - Horatio, be still! - but it'll be a little bit before that last dose of Narcan works through his system."  
"Geez, fella, you're as bad as me. I hate bein' down for the count." Jason looked over at Speed, then back to the now-sharp-eyed Lieutenant. "Glad to see ya on the mend, though. You gave us quite a scare."  
Horatio moved his arm a little, eyed the IV with distaste, then replied, "I'm afraid I've missed a bit."  
Gil looked from Jason, then back at his friend. "What happened?" he finally inquired.  
"Horatio was kidnapped, beaten, drugged and died. Luckily, he's stubborn." Jason grinned wolfishly. "And the bad guys are down a few."  
"Alexx, Speed, this is Gil Grissom. He's a friend of mine." Horatio introduced them. "What are you doing in Miami?"  
"He was kidnapped." Jason interrupted again. "Smuggled in from Costa Rica, and held by the wanna-be Army-of-the-Oh-So-Holy. Ffft. As if."  
Horatio's gaze turned on Jason, eyes sharp,and simply asked, "Who?"  
Jason's hand went up to ruffle his hair. "Eh...well, that's soemthin' Ian'll have to get into with ya. It's a long story."  
"That's for sure." muttered Speed, managing a faint smile.

"The blood's not in CODIS." Valera said, coming back in. "I'm sorry. I..." Her voice wavered a little. "The rumor mill is going crazy. Everyone's worried about Horatio, if there's anything..."  
"We'll find him." Eric said, voice firm. "We need something, and quick."  
Sara and Greg were both worried more for another missing man, a former CSI, husband and father-figure. But even Sara could sympathize with her Miami collegues. Her stomach was twisted into knots, but she hoped that they would find both men in time.  
"But the blood doesn't match anyone in the CSI databases, either." Greg said, quickly, grateful for the access the Miami Lab had offered them.  
"Well, the glass is from H's window. Blood's from the same source." Valera said, glancing over at Greg, then back to Eric and Ryan.  
Sara saw their reluctance, and said quietly, "We'll have to check the condo."  
Eric and Ryan's worried gazes met, then the Cuban CSI said reluctantly, "Let's go."

Two figures were watching the CSIs, and one opened their cell phone, dialing a number in the device's memory. "T heir master hasn't contacted them, Father, but they are on the move." He listened a moment, then replied. "We'll stop him, sir. We'll find the blasphemers' leader, and slay him before he can follow his vile plans."  
The voice on the other end spoke, and the pair crossed themselves in unison. "We will triumph, Brother," the thinner of the two said. "For God is with us."


	11. Home Invasion

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter Eleven: _Home Invasion_

"All human beings have three lives: public, private, and secret."  
― Gabriel Garcí a Márquez, Gabriel García Márquez: a Life

Ian spoke quietly, but firmly. "Calleigh, I do not enjoy this any more than you do. Killing is at best distasteful. But," and his gaze was steady. "Sometimes it is necessary. If I must choose between a gun-wielding psychotic and Horatio's safety, I think you know where my actions will lay."  
The blonde CSI stared at him, and realized, almost guiltily, that she could well make the same choice. It was a little frightening, but she had to look back at the man, then at the crumpled heap that had once been a living, breathing being.  
"We should make our way back and help move out of that warehouse."  
Calleigh looked back toward the Lab, then thought of Horatio.  
She nodded once, and followed after the tall, black-haired man back toward where they had come.

Jason looked sidelong at Alexx, who looked up and sighed. "I really should have asked for a sedative...Horatio, you are being stubborn! Be still!"  
"Alexx, I'm fine." Horatio sighed, closing his eyes a moment.  
Gil moved a little, and tried to ignore the shooting agony in his bones. He, too, disliked being sick. Even moreso now.  
"Are you sure you're okay, Horatio?" the former CSI had to struggle a moment to avoid gasping, and looked at the redhead.  
"I'm fine." the velvet tones were determined.  
It was then Ian and Calleigh came back in, and the emerald eyes closed a moment. _How do I explain? What can I say? How do I rip apart his entire past and not cause a bigger wound?_ he thought, anguished, then forced the turbulent thoughts aside. "A scout." he said, voice almost sharp. "We must move, now."  
"I've got Grissom, you take our impatient patient, Ian." Jason said, and lifted a startled Gil and lay him over his shoulder.  
Ian shot Alexx a faintly apologetic look and lifted Horatio as if he weighed less than a feather.  
Alexx grumbled in frustration, lifting both IVs in her hands and following reluctantly.

"Any ID on that rosary?" Natalia asked, as Walter bent over the burned object.  
"Well, it's custom-made, that's for sure. Lots of detail." the tall black man didn't look up. "But I haven't been able to find out who made it, since there isn't really a searchable database for high-end rosaries."  
Natalia's voice came out in a sigh. "Another dead end." she said, frustration in her voice.  
"Ummm..." Walter looked up, eyes refocusing. "Any news on H?"  
The brunette looked away, shook her head.  
Walter frowned, then reluctantly, turned back to his task.

"I got an idea." said Jason, looking around a corner, tactfully ignoring the muffled complaints of Gil Grissom.  
"Sounds dangerous." quipped Speed, as Ian stepped up beside him, Alexx keeping pace.  
Calleigh brought up the rear, looking back repeatedly at Horatio, who managed a faint smile for her.  
"Double-bluff." Jason's voice was amused. "We head back to Horatio's condo and bolt-up there. The place is good and defensible."  
Without thinking, Calleigh stepped over to Ian's side and took the disgruntled redhead's hand, squeezing lightly.  
His eyes met her's, and he gently returned the gesture.  
Ian nodded, following Jason's gaze and uttering a faint sigh as his burden moved a bit, obviously intending to get down and move under his own power. "Be still, Horatio." he chided, mildly. "Your system needs time to adjust to the Narcan, and you remain a bit dehydrated, I'm sure."  
"I'm..."  
"You're not fine." the blonde woman jumped in. "So just relax for a bit longer, for me?"  
Horatio's sigh spoke volumes, as everyone started moving, Jason with his gun out.

Eric, Ryan, Sara and Greg were all waiting for a key to Horatio's condo to be found.  
It was incredible, and more than a little annoying, but there seemed to be only _one_ key.  
"This is crazy." grumbled Ryan, frustrated. "One key, and Calleigh had it. Now that she's missing, we have _no_ key? And the locksmith is out for the week!"  
"We may have to break the door down." Greg was shaking his head.  
"Or pick the lock." Eric suggested. "I think Marc might could help us, he's an expert on locks, and comes in as a consultant."  
"That'd be a help." Sara said, looking toward the elevator. _Gil, where are you?_ she thought, barely able to get her mind to fully focus. _Where are you?_

It took a few minutes of constant moving - and a quick ride in which Jason "borrowed" a delivery van - before they made it back to Horatio's condo.  
"Hey, Horatio, got a key?" asked the blonde man, as he eyed the two uniformed officers outside the building.  
"Of course."  
"Gimme, pretty please." Jason held out a hand, but Ian looked down at the redhead.  
"Where is it?" he asked, voice very quiet.  
Horatio looked around once at the group, then replied, "Right jacket pocket."  
The dark-haired man reached into the indicated spot, retrieved the small keyring, and nodded once to Jason. He paused a moment, then reached in his own shirt-pocket and slid Horatio's sunglasses back into the other man's jacket.  
"Easy. Up the back way. I'm gonna be a distraction." The younger man grinned, reached into his ever-present backpack, and retrieved a cylindrical object. He sat Gil carefully down, and Speed stepped up to support him when the man started to lean dangerously to his right. Speed noticed the other man broke into a sweat the moment his feet hit the ground.  
Calleigh looked over at the group, but kept looking back at Horatio, who's gaze was warm and reassuring in return.  
Speed managed to lift Gil into a fireman's carry, and Calleigh took the lead, headed around the tired police officers and toward the back. _I can't believe I'm actually doing this._ she thought.  
Jason took off at a half-crouch, ran by the two startled uniforms at blinding speed, and tossed the cylinder into the squad car on the way.  
There was a bright flash and a _boom!_ that sent the two men scrambling for their weapons and running for their car.  
Racing around the corner, Jason backtracked and met the group as they hurried up the back stairs.  
Balancing Horatio in one arm, Ian turned the key in the lock and ushered the group in, closing the door behind them.  
"Tell me, is there some kinda stupid rule that instead of just picking a lock, the bad guys just have to break in windows?" Jason quipped, glancing around once.  
Horatio balked when Ian started to set him on the couch. "A chair is fine." he insisted, eyes turning toward Gil.  
The redhead was quickly settled into a chair, and Jason stepped over to help Speed lay Gil's now-trembling body flat on the couch.  
Jason took up a station near the front door, assuming his characteristic, almost-indolent, stance. "Nice place." he commented.  
"Thank you." Horatio's tones were slightly dry.  
Alexx looked around unobtrusively, then checked the IVs and sighed. "Empty." she said, absently. "Horatio, how do you feel?"  
Her reluctant patient stirred a bit and sighed. "I'll be fine. Thank you, Alexx."  
"Don't mention it." Her voice was wry. "You make a rotten patient, you know."  
Horatio's expression was bemused, and Calleigh crouched down next to him, hand over his, as Alexx set to removing the IVs.  
"If you feel weak or nauseated, you let me know right away, do you hear me?" Alexx waved a warning finger at her friend. "And do you have anything to drink? You're dehydrated and I don't particularly want to see you pass out from it."  
Horatio, now free of the IVs, nodded toward the kitchen. "There's water in the refrigerator."  
"I'll get it." Speed volunteered, glancing once around Horatio's private haven.  
"Help yourself to whatever you like." the liquid-velvet tones were polite and concerned, not sarcastic.  
Gil coughed hard, aware of the blood, and felt a chill. _Not much longer_. the thought was both frightening and somehow comforting.  
Calleigh looked directly into those sapphire eyes, and pain was in her voice as she whispered, "You scared me half to death, you know."  
Horatio's gaze met her's, and she saw the warmth and apology in his expression. "Are you okay?" he asked, softly.  
She managed a smile in reply, though it was a bit shaky. "I am now."  
Horatio smiled in return and turned his hand under her's, giving a reassuring squeeze.  
Speed came back with a few bottles of cold, bottled water and wordlessly passed them out. "Geez, H, there's just water and a few fruits and vegetables in there, barely enough for a meal!" he said, concern etching his normally sardonic tones.  
Ian looked piercingly back at Horatio, then sighed slightly. _One crisis at a time_. he found himself thinking.

Marc was a thin, almost mousey young man with light brown hair and somewhat shy blue-green eyes.  
When the CSIs approached him with their request, he nodded, never quite meeting anyone's gaze. "I can get in, if, uh, it's legal." he promised, nervous voice matched with furtive glances at the group.  
"It's legal." Ryan replied, bouncing a little on his toes with impatience.  
Eric, still tense and worried, jerked his head toward the elevator. "Let's go."

Walter suddenly brightened a bit. "I think I may have something." he called, motioning to Natalia. "I know checking the beads will take time, so I tried something else."  
"What do you have?"  
"Well, I did some digging - for mahogany, custom-made rosaries..."  
"I thought you said no databases?"  
"New kind of database. Etsy."  
"Etsy?"  
"Yeah. I ran a search for custom-made rosaries, and a guy named Evan Carson sells them. And here's the thing - his trademark is mahogany."  
Natalia felt her mind sharpening as the chase for evidence accelerated. "Okay, where is this Carson?"  
Walter's expression was triumphant. "Right here in Miami. In fact, about ten blocks from here."  
Natalia couldn't fight down a grin. "Well, let's go!"

The CSIs arrived on the scene to find coughing police officers, a lightly burned car, and other vehicles pulling in nearby, sirens flashing.  
"What happened?" Eric demanded, stepping up to the younger of the two.  
"A flash-bang, sir, went off right in the car. Somebody ran past and tossed it in."  
"Did you see them?" Sara asked, as the two other men joined them.  
"No, ma'am, it was too fast." the other officer sounded a little abashed.  
"Is it clear?" asked Greg, intelligent eyes quickly surveying the scene.  
"Yes, sir, no-one went near the door."  
"All right, we're going in there." Ryan said, and drew his gun.  
Eric nodded and followed suit. "You guys stay behind us, okay?" he said, firmly.  
Sara, Greg, and the nervous Marc all fell in behind the two men, who started up the stairs.


	12. Reunions

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter Twelve: _Reunions_

"Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven."  
- Tryon Edwards

"Whoa, lightly-armed home invasion on it's way in!" Jason warned, suddenly coming alert and wary.  
Ian stepped silently in front of Horatio and Calleigh, while Speed tensed next to Alexx.  
The doorknob turned slowly, and Eric Delko followed his gun in, shouting, "Miami-Dade Police!"  
Jason's hand whipped out and caught the Cuban's forearm, whipping the CSI in and kicking the door shut in Ryan's face.  
"Easy, Eric." said the blonde, softly. "Invite in your friends, but go slowly."  
Seeing the gun, the CSI scowled, and Horatio was suddenly on his feet, piercing gaze on Jason, expression sharp.  
After a moment, the younger man huffed softly and withdrew his weapon, sliding it back into the holster.  
A bit in shock, and wary, Eric watched Jason step out of the CSI's line of sight just as he caught sight of the redhead.  
"H!"  
"Eric, it's all right." Horatio's liquid-velvet voice rippled with both concern and command.  
Looking around once, seeing Calleigh also on her feet and...  
"_Speed?!_"

Natalia and Walter walked up the neat path to Evan Carson's home. It was nestled in a gated community, with wide windows and the glistening reflection of a pool sparkling in the glass.  
The brunette knocked briskly on the door, and after a few moments later a middle-aged, fair-haired man with dark green eyes opened the door.  
"May I help you?" he asked, polite but somehow almost - affronted.  
"I'm Natalia Boa Vista and this is Walter Simmons. We're invesigating a crime." She kept her voice neutral, but the man's expression was somehow disturbing. "Can we come in?"  
"Why?" The deep voice was now ice-cold.  
"We found an object you might have seen." She held up the photo. "Did you make this?"  
Walter glanced over at Natalia, his own radar going up at the icy behavior.  
"I make many rosaries." The deep green eyes were distant and cold, and the way he looked at the two CSIs was much like a hungry wolf would regard an unguarded sheep.  
Natalia and Walter exchanged a glance.  
"We can come back with a search warrant and tear this place apart." The young woman shifted effortlessly into a warning, offical mode.  
The man's eyes flickered a moment, with such utter hate, that Natalia had to steel herself not to move back a step.  
"Do as you like." he almost spat, stepping aside.

Eric heard the door fly back open as Ryan and the Las Vegas CSIs charged in, but the gun he had held in his suddenly-nerveless fingers dropped to the floor.  
He was grateful when he felt Horatio's hand on his arm, grateful for him being _there_, and he turned to stare at the redhead, saw the kindness, the strength, and most of all the _understanding_, in those eyes.  
Ryan, Greg, and Sara were all crowding in the door, though Marc stayed outside, fidgeting.  
Speed stepped up close to his friend, and Eric grabbed him in an awkward embrace, which Speed managed to return, despite a sudden lack of oxygen.  
"You're alive." Eric's voice was almost flat with shock, and a slight tinge of accusation.  
Ryan saw Horatio and his gun lowered as he relaxed a little. Thank God. he thought, as everything slowed down from the adrenaline-laced speed of both concern for his friend and boss, the almost-panic of losing sight of Eric, and the whole day in general.  
Calleigh joined Horatio next to the two friends, and was about to speak when the dark-haired woman came in, took one look at the figure on the couch and charged to his side. "Gil!" It was almost a yell.  
Gil winced and Horatio looked once over at the pair, expression sad as he closed his eyes a moment with the depth of his emotion.  
Sara knelt down next to her husband, who opened his eyes and managed a weak smile.  
Eric and Speed had stepped back from one another, as Ryan and Greg followed Sara in, each looking at a seperate man.  
"Why? Gil, tell me _why_?" Sara's normally tight self-control was frayed and painful.  
"I..." Gil had to swallow against the harsh cough, the faint metallic taste of blood. "I had to...I'm sorry...I _had_ to..."  
Greg came over and joined Sara next to the older man, who struggled to sit up.  
"Grissom." Greg's voice was weak, and he had to swallow several times.  
The former CSI was much thinner, even frail, and his eyes, though lucid, shone with pain. Unable to sit up fully, Gil settled back against the chair pillow Horatio slid in behind him, gaze turning to the shocked young man. "Greg." He managed a faint smile of greeting.  
Eric looked at Speed, expression taut, and the other man mouthed, "Later."  
Horatio crouched down on the other side of Sara and murmered, "Could you drink some water?" He indicated the bottle on the edge of the table. His sapphire eyes showed his concern - and his sadness.  
Sara snatched it and unscrewed the top, passing it to Gil with a quick look at the other man.  
Gil managed to lift the bottle to his lips and took a grateful drink.  
Jason stepped up out of range, turning to Ian and looking at him questioningly.  
Ian's eyes were closed, but he slowly shook his head.  
"Gil, we need to get you to a hospital." Horatio's soft velvet tones prompted the ex-CSI to wince at the thought.  
Instead, he spoke softly to Sara, though he glanced once at Greg. "I'm sorry..."

Natalia and Walter were moving through Carson's house, both keeping one eye on the angry man who watched them with supressed fury.  
The house's walls were covered with relgious icons and pictures, and several rosaries lay on a long table, in various stages of completion.  
Carson stood behind them, expression cold and disdainful.  
After a moment, Walter stepped between the man and his fellow CSI. He held up a photo of the rosary. "Did you make this?" he asked.  
The man eyed the picture as if were contaminated. "And if I did?" he asked, coolly.  
Natalia looked straight at the their reluctant host and tried again. "It was at the scene of a crime."  
"And?"  
"Listen, Mr. Carson, we just need to find out if you made the rosary. We need to more information..." Walter was getting impatient now.  
"Then track it down." Cold indifference.  
"We need your help to do that..."  
"I have work to do." the man was clearly irritated. "I'll have to ask you to leave."

Horatio felt a sudden wave of dizziness, and closed his eyes a moment to steady himself.  
"A hospital won't help." Gil's voice was quiet, but his gaze was somehow calm, focused.  
"But..." Sara reached out to take his hand, to touch him. "There has to be some treatment, something they..."  
"Sara, it's stage four bone cancer." Behind her, Greg drew in a sharp breath, and Alexx froze, eyes closing as she recognized the painful finality of what Horatio's friend was facing. "I have a week, two at the outside."  
Sara's expression went from pleading, to horrified comprehension.  
"I'm not going to the hospital, Sara. I won't spend what time I have left chained to a hospital bed."  
Unobtrusively, Calleigh moved closer to Horatio, reaching over to rest a hand on his shoulder.  
The dark-haired woman felt tears escaping, and felt her husband's hand gently squeeze her's.  
"I'm sorry." Gil managed, then fell into a spasm of painful coughing. Despite himself, he felt blood come up and trickle from the corner of his mouth. He managed to lift his free hand, but Sara was already gently wiping it away.  
Ian looked over at the redhead crouched next to the man laying on the couch, closed his eyes a moment, murmuring, "_Is féidir dia dheonú dom do neartsa._"  
Jason commented, "They'll be back, you know. I can hold this place down for a while if it gets dicey, but I don't like the idea of bullets flying through here."  
"We are in no danger for the moment." Ian replied, voice equally soft. "And we have twenty-two hours left."  
"Poor guy doesn't deserve this, Ian. _Neither_ of them deserve what's coming down the pike."  
Ian's eyes closed. "No. But - I believe that my son holds the key."

IRISH

"_Is féidir dia dheonú dom do neartsa_." - "God grant me strength."


	13. Chain of Evidence

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you, everyone, for your feedback and kind words. I really appreciate it, and have to apologize for any weird spelling mistakes that show up - I am using a truly ancient word processor that doesn't let me spell check, but I'll try to keep a handle on that. Please keep the feedback coming - it makes me and my hyperkenetic muse happy! :) On with the story, hope you enjoy! :)

LOST SON OF AVALON

by Shadewynde

Chapter Thirteen: _Chain of Evidence_

"Oft hope is born when all is forlorn."  
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

Another bout of dizziness and a brief blaze of complete _agony_ had Horatio close his eyes for a momentarily. The world wobbled precariously for a few seconds, but he forced himself to focus, to concentrate.  
Calleigh felt the sharp tension, and looked over at Alexx, but before she could say anything, Horatio's voice was quiet and steady.  
"Gil, you need something for the pain."  
The former CSI shook his head stubbornly. "All the drugs just make me sick. They don't help." he replied, softly.  
Sara looked from Gil to Horatio, then back to Gil.

Effectively chased from their suspect's home, Natalia and Walter were walking back to the Hummer.  
"Man, this guy is sure guilty of _something_." Walter said, as Natalia opened the driver-side door.  
"I agree." Natalia's voice was steady, but inside she shivered. Something about the man's utter coldness made her both wary and confused. His level of hate was both confusing - and a little frightening.  
The ride back to the Lab was quiet, and when they were walking back in, passing an officer in the hallway.  
"We need to check out Carson's background." Natalia said, turning toward the Computer Lab.  
When they entered, a young man with "Landers" on his labcoat looked up. "Can I help you" His voice was polite, as he took off his wire-frame glasses and cleaning the lens on a hankerchief.  
"We need to run a background check on Evan Carson." Walter said. "You're working late, Jim."  
Pushing his glasses up on his nose, Jim Landers started typing. "It's only a few hours." he replied. "I don't mind. The new Tech is still getting in the swing of things here."  
Natalia leaned her hip against the long table, and waited.  
"Evan Carson, age 41." read the tech, eyes on the screen. "Juvenille convictions for petty larceny, one for auto theft. He failed to comply with a judge's orders, so his record was never cleared. Suspected of taking part in two robberies of jewelry stores, never prosecuted."

The young officer looked disbelivingly at the older, taller man in front of him. "I never signed up to kill anyone. I...I can't! It'd be cold-blooded murder!"  
"The Lord commands us to strike down evil. We must obey."  
Shaking his head, Richard Hall whispered, "Please don't ask me to do this."  
The taller man looked over at the third man in the room, a man slightly shorter than him and much less muscular.  
Sternly, even harshly, the older man growled, "Go. Do your duty, in the name of God. Do not fail."  
Stunned and trapped, the young police officer stumbled back toward the patrol car.  
Away from the dingy alley.  
Away from promises he had made.  
Away from his memories.  
God help me, his mind whispered.

Speed and Eric had stepped slightly off to the side.  
Eric's gaze wss comprised of shock, confusion, and more than a little pain.  
"We all thought you were dead." he whispered, grateful that his voice didn't crack. "What happened, Speed? Who are these people?"  
Speed waited a few moments for his friend to vent, hating the pain he had left in his wake, and once more feeling fury at the agents of the Federal Government. When he spoke, he looked straight at Eric, letting him see the truth of what he was saying.  
"After the...shooting, Alexx smuggled me out to the Feds. They didn't give her much choice, and Stetler was on the warpath for H." Speed took a deep breath. "It boils down to one thing: they lied to me. They asked me to give testimony on a case I worked, and then they stole my life." Even now, Speed's voice showed bitter anger. "Jason - shorter guy, there," he indicated the younger man standing near the couch. "He showed up and got me out." He shifted unconciously to the other foot. "Ian needed someone who knew Miami CSI, knew the system. He wanted to help H, and I jumped at the chance." Feeling more than a little awkward, and hating it, Speed's voice softened a little. "I'm sorry, Eric."  
Eric stared at his friend for several seconds, swallowed, then said tentatively, "But you're okay?"  
"Yeah. You okay?"  
A sudden grin spread across the young Cuban's face. "Yeah."  
Ryan stepped over to the two, and Eric nodded. "Tim Speedle, Ryan Wolfe."  
Taken aback, the CSI ran his hand through his brown hair and stared at the other man in confusion. "Man, this is kinda like meeting a ghost." he said, then looked a little embarassed. "Umm...just call me Ryan."  
"Speed."  
Ryan looked from Speed, to Eric, then over at Horatio. Relief again flooded through him seeing the redhead alive and apparently unharmed.  
Jason had slipped over to the window, and reached into his backpack. Extracting his binoculars, he looked down, to either side, then up.  
Muttering a low curse, he growled, "Ian, we got company."  
Ian didn't turn, but asked only, "How many?"  
"Just a scout." The silence in the room told the young blonde everyone was listening. He gave Ian a sidelong glance, then went on. "I just see one, he's watchin' the cops downstairs. You can bet we're gonna see the scout's partner come along post-quick."  
Calleigh spoke up immediately. "Weapons?" her voice was sharp with concern.  
"Yeah, but nothing long-range. Bulge at the left shoulder, binoculars, just a scout."  
The door opened with a timid knock, and Marc tentatively stepped in, almost flinching when everyone glanced over at him.  
"Uh...I...is there anything I can do?" The shy young man avoided everyone's gaze.  
"It's okay, Marc." Eric looked over as the security expert came in and carefully closed the door behind him.  
"The officers dowstairs - they look really - uh - worried."  
The shy, mousy young man looked around once, unobtrusively, then down. This whole situation reminded him of his father. He should still be alive. His thoughts veered away from the painful, gaping wound the loss of his father had left. He'd know what to do. Not like me. He wrapped his thin arms around himself and shivered.  
Ian and Jason exchanged a look, then the taller man said softly, "We need a distraction."  
"I seem to be doin' an awful lot of that today." Jason's trademark grin was back. "No problem."  
Emerald eyes sparked faintly in the light. "All right. Lead them around then back in - just lead, Jason. I want them alive." Ian's voice was soft.  
Jason considered, then glanced meaningfully at Eric and Ryan.  
Horatio spoke quietly, but with enough authority everyone looked at him. "What are you planning?"  
"A distraction." Ian replied, regarding the CSI with an unreadable expression. "There is an armed man out there with intent to do harm, and it will not be long before he returns with more." His voice was calm. "I need two to go out the front, two more out the back."  
Horatio cocked his head, considering, taking the measure of the man in front of him. He was aware that Eric and Ryan were staring alertly at him, and he looked over at them, then back at Calleigh, who had moved up to stand next to him.  
"You're planning to lure these people back here." The redhead's voice was quiet, steady.  
"I am."  
"And then?"  
"I will be providing my own type of distraction."


	14. Manuvers Unseen

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter Fourteen: _Maneuvers Unseen_

"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."  
- Albert Einstein

Natalia and Walter returned to the Lab, both feeling frustrated and more than a little confused.  
Finally, the tall black man turned to his companion. "What do you think his problem is?" he asked.  
"I'm not sure, but that rosary really set him off. We'll have to prove that one really was Carson's." Shaking her head, the dark-haired CSI frowned. "We'll have to find a link."  
"Maybe putting a customization request on Etsy is a good idea." Walter suggested.  
Natalia grinned, appreciating the irony. "There's more than one way to compare a rosary."

Horatio looked over at at each of the people in the room, then back at Ian.  
"I'll be your distraction."  
_"No!"_ Ian's sharp denial had everyone's eyes on him. He closed his eyes, struggled with his emotions. After a moment, Ian forced calm. "You have only just recovered." He looked around, then spoke more gently. "I need your help." He looked around the room. "I need _all_ your help."  
After a moment, Eric looked over at Horatio, who met his gaze. The young Cuban turned to Ryan and Speed, then looked back at the redhead.  
The lean CSI felt Calleigh behind him, and sorted through his thoughts. Finally, he said quietly, "All right. Eric, Ryan - go out the front and support those officers. Speed, Jason..."  
A little self-conciously, Eric picked up his fallen weapon and looked over at Jason.  
Jason reached again into his backpack, pulled out a map, and opened it. He moved over to Eric and Ryan. "Round and round the mulberry bush..." The little tune was brief, as he indicated the area, then pointed to a corner four blocks away. "Head there, after you round up the uniforms, then backtrack," he pointed to another building, "here. After they chase ya a bit, they'll wonder where me and Speed are. We'll jump 'em, they'll chase us, and you guys make tracks back to yer Lab. By then, Ian's distraction will...ah...well, they won't be chasing us for a while, and this place'll be safe."  
Calleigh frowned, then moved again, her fingertips touching her weapon. "Horatio and I'll hold down things here." she promised.  
Alexx finally moved over to Gil and took his wrist, checking his pulse and then his heartbeat. Sara didn't let go of her husband's hand as Horatio came back to crouch next to the woman. Greg stood nearby, wishing there was something - _anything_ - he could do.  
The black doctor looked over at her friend next to her and said softly, "Right now, he's running a little fever, and I think he's in a lot of pain. There...there's not a lot I can do. I'm sorry."  
Gil looked up and managed a reassuring smile, finding a little more strength to lean on. He held on to Sara's hand, and found comfort in that.

Natalia leaned over Walter's shoulder as they worked on their ad.  
"Mahogany, 59 beads, swirl design background on the beads, a silver cord..." Walter said, absently, as he worked.  
"Crucifix of silver." Natalia added, watching their work take form.  
"Okay, got it. Now we just go to the account, access the ad, post our request for customization...there." The young black man leaned back in his chair.  
"Now, we just wait for a reply."

Horatio touched Gil's shoulder lightly, then rose and stepped over to where Speed, Eric, and Ryan were standing, and spoke quietly. "Be careful."  
"Don't worry, H. We'll be fine." Speed met his former boss' eyes, shifted a bit, then added wryly, "We'll just run them in a circle."  
The redhead cocked his head slightly, and regarded the trio in front of him, steadily.  
Jason spoke up. "Hey, if anything crazy pops up, they won't make it two steps toward 'em." It carried a note of promise. He grinned and jerked his head toward the back entrance. "C'mon, bro. Let's go for a jog."  
Ian moved up behind the CSI and said softly, "They'll be fine. Believe me, their target is...elsewhere."  
Horatio's voice was soft. "You mean me."  
Emerald eyes met sapphire, and Ian's reply was surprisingly gentle. "In part."  
When the CSI cocked his head again, considering, the other man knew his answer was being analyzed.  
Inwardly, Ian felt a surge of first fierce pride, then a very acute pain. _If only, Horatio._ _Time is running out, and I am running out of options. I lost you once, I could not bear to lose you again. _  
Calleigh watched the two, then looked over at Speed as he walked over to Jason. "Be careful." she mouthed, including all three in her concern. She looked at Jason and added, "You, too."  
Jason winked mischievously back at her. "I'm good at this craziness." he said, then spoke up. "Okay, Eric, Ryan - out you go, and make sure we have three minutes. Remember the route, and stay sharp."  
Eric and Ryan exchanged a look, looked back at their mutual friend and boss, then the Cuban nodded silently and after a moment, the pair slipped out the front.

Jason looked over at Ian, and when the raven-haired man turned his head to meet his gaze, he glanced over at Horatio, then lifted a questioning eyebrow.  
The other man closed his eyes, then turned back to the redhead, who had observed the exchange.  
Calleigh put a hand on Horatio's arm, and his intense gaze turned to meet her's.  
Before he could speak, another blast of complete _agony_ ripped through him, this time sending him lurching to the side.  
Ian caught him on one side, Calleigh held his arm, supporting him on the other. Somehow, he managed to stay upright, though everything whirled wildly around him.  
Alexx was instantly at their side, checking the CSI's pulse and eyeing him with frustrated concern. "Horatio, you are gonna drive me to an early grave...can you follow my finger?" She watched his eyes move with the indicated digit, and frowned. "This isn't the Narcan, but something is going on. I'm afraid there might be some sort of neurologic reaction..."  
Calleigh whispered, "Horatio, please let us help you."  
His sapphire eyes met her green ones, as Ian helped the redhead to a chair and lowered him into it.  
Speed watched this and took a step toward them, but Jason caught his shoulder.  
"We have to go, Speed. Or they'll be back here." Jason's grey-blue eyes met Speed's dark ones, and the ex-CSI nodded slowly.  
"Just a little...dizzy." Horatio's voice was steady, though Alexx scowled at him.  
Calleigh looked into the redhead's eyes and was torn between wanting to comfort him and shake him. "All right, you sit there and be my backup. Okay?" _I love him, but sometimes he makes me completely crazy - okay, that covers a lot of ground...whoa, there...down, girl. Down!_ Her own thoughts were so strong in her mind that the blonde had to haul herself back on track._ I need to talk to him. I..._ Aware of Horatio's concerned and puzzled look, she looked back into those vivid, captivating, sapphire eyes.  
The familiar tilt of his head was accompanied by a slight, but reassuring smile.  
"It is, I fear, a bit more complex than what any drug might do, Doctor." Ian's voice was soft.

"We need you guys to spread out and cover the area." Eric was saying to the grouped officers. "Do not attempt entry. Understood?"  
"Yes, sir." nodded the most senior of the group, and motioned for his men, including the original, somewhat frazzled pair, to spread out.  
Once the officers had moved away, the two CSIs started walking at a brisk pace.  
Eric and Ryan had barely left the parking lot when Eric's glance behind them showed two figures trailing them.  
"You see them?" he whispered. Despite the darkness, the approaching figures were visible.  
Ryan kept pace with his friend. "Yeah. Two?"  
"Two."  
The pair looked at each other, then Eric said under his breath, "Okay, let's do this. Ready?"  
"Yeah."  
"One...two...three!"  
With that, the CSIs took off running, rounding the corner at a sprint.

Jason looked over at Ian, then at Speed. "Let's go. Time's a wastin'." he said, swinging his backpack over his shoulder.  
Speed glanced back at Horatio, then nodded.  
The two exited via the back door, and it was Gil who spoke next.  
"Maybe you should all get to safety, Horatio." Gil's voice was soft and tired. "I'm sorry about your place. Sara..."  
"I'm not leaving." Sara's voice was firm and unyielding. She was still struggling with the idea of her husband dying. Gil dying. It all seemed so unreal. No, unbelievable. Terrifying. Holding his hand in her's, she could only watch helplessly as the man she loved slowly slipped away, a little at a time.  
The redhead looked over at Gil and Sara, then back at Calleigh, covering her hand for a moment with his own.  
Alexx, meanwhile, looked at Ian. "What do you mean? If you know something..."  
Emerald eyes met dark ones, and the black-haired man only shook his head. "Right now, I must deal with an imminent assault." His gaze swept the room. "I must ask that, the moment that door opens - do not move. Please. There are limits to this...ah...technology...can accomplish." There was a kind of wry irony in his voice. "I believe the correct term is, "Freeze"." Unobtrusively, his hands were moving gracefully.  
Ian was suddenly abundantly aware that Horatio saw, and was alertly observing.  
_One thing at a time..._ The black-haired man thought, though he ached to simply tell the other man everything. But...  
_One thing at a time._

Eric and Ryan rounded the last corner, the unknown pair in hot pursuit, when Jason popped up with a board in his hands, swinging it at the left pursuer's shoulder. The blow knocked the man hard into his companion. After a startled moment, the pair turned, the blonde man sketched a mocking salute, and he and Speed took off running back around the other corner.  
"We will meet again, blasphemers." the right-most of the two promised, and ran after the newly-departed pair.  
Ryan was bent over, catching his breath, as he gasped out, "I wish we knew what the hell is going on."  
Equally winded, Eric was in the same position as he managed, "You aren't the only one."

Jason and Speed were at a sprint, but careful to make sure their pursuers didn't lose sight of them.  
"You know," and Speed's gasped hiss carried a note of dry humor. "It's no wonder...we keep...in shape..."  
"Aw, man, this is fun!" How the man could keep talking while running, the former CSI would never understand. "You prefer a borin' old gym?"  
"You know, you're...completely...out of your mind."  
"You just now noticed, eh? Congrats, yer a genius..." The blonde man actually managed a mischievous laugh. "And keep up the pace, not too much further..."  
"Shut up...and run..."

Ian lifted one finger to his lips as the door banged open and Jason and Speed shot through, diving behind the kitchen bar.  
Their two pursuers were close behind them, both carrying 9mm pistols out and ready.  
Greg saw them pass by him, not even glancing his way, and puzzled at it. Despite his misgivings, he held himself still.  
Sara was watching Gil's face, aware of each breath he inhaled and exhaled, gently holding his hand as if to ground him to the world of the living.  
Her husband's eyes were closed, his body still, breathing soft. He looked strained and exausted.  
Despite the world wavering oddly in and out, Horatio watched the newcomers alertly. If they looked their way...  
_Calleigh..._he thought, aware of her presence, her steadying hand still on his own, and stayed unmoving. _I can't...I can't let myself...I won't let her die too._ He forced down his emotions, keeping his eyes on the pair prowling around the room, taut but still.  
The blonde CSI felt the lean, intense redhead's tension and echoed it. But she followed his lead, remaining still as the two men moved around.  
"They're not here." One of the men, dressed sloppily and haphazardly, was saying.  
"But Joseph...they were here. You saw them!" Frustration was in the more muscular of the two's voice.  
"The demon must have tricked us. Led us here on a wild-goose chase..."  
"There's no one here. We must return and warn the brethren, before the monster and it's minions spread their filth!" The pair rummaged through the apartment, looking everywhere - and seeing no-one. They moved back toward the door.  
"We must tell the Father." the messy one, Joseph, was saying. "We must warn him!"  
"Yes - before the demon and it's servants can escape. Come, we should hurry."  
The other man nodded, and with a final, frustrated look back, the pair stormed out, united in their fury.  
Alexx spoke up first. "What's going on? They didn't see a thing!"  
Jason popped up from behind the bar, nearly knocking Speed back so quick was the movement. "Hey, Doc." He grinned. "They weren't supposed to."  
Horatio looked over at him, then spoke with quiet intensity. "And what technology, exactly, did you use?" His gaze turned on Ian.  
"Ah..."  
"Proprietary?" suggested Jason, shrugging both in an apology to Speed and in answer.  
The redhead did not look away, and even Ian looked uncomfortable under that steady, intelligent appraisal.


	15. Speaking Out

LOST SON OF AVALON

_Chapter Fifteen_: Speaking Out

Natalia was pacing the length of the room while Walter swiveled his chair seat back and forth.  
"It's the waiting that can get to me, sometimes." The young black man sighed, watching the screen.  
"The hardest part of the job." Natalia's voice was equally tired.  
"You think that they've found H and he's okay?"  
"We have to keep beliving that. I don't want to even consider the alternative."  
"Yeah," A beep sounded and Walter swung around and almost pounced on the keyboard. "Aha...our friend Mr. Carson just replied."  
The dark-haired woman looked over his shoulder.  
The e-mail was simple and direct.

_ Rosary as you requested. $2500. Photo included_.

The image that pulled up had both of them looking closely.  
Natalia held up the photo to the screen..  
"A perfect match." Walter grinned. "We gotta link!"

Horatio regarded Ian with a steady, penetrating look. "Propietary?" His voice was deceptively mild.  
Jason was leaning on crossed arms, against the bar, watching the exchange.  
Marc looked up, fidgited, glanced around, then looked back down. He swallowed nervously, and edged over to stand out of everyone's way, backing up against the wall, trying to blend into it.  
Speed regarded the pair, and forced himself to swallow against the feeling of guilt. He wasn't lying, but he hated hiding things - especially from the man who was his former boss. He had to look away, and even then he _still_ felt guilty.  
Ian's demeanor changed slightly, and again, felt a surge of pride when the redhead saw it.  
"I'm afraid I must, and I trust you'll excuse this, plead the Fifth."  
Calleigh looked over at Alexx and the two women exchanged concerned looks.  
The world flared into a strange whirling focus, tilting wildly around Horatio's ears. He tensed, fighting to focus back in, and closed his eyes.  
Feeling the sudden tension, Calleigh's eyes were drawn to her fellow CSI's face and she knelt down. "Horatio? Talk to me." Her voice was soft and concerned.  
"I'm just a little dizzy...I'll be fine."  
Calleigh's expression was a mixture of very real concern and frustration, as she exploded, "Horatio, you're _not_ fine! For heaven's sake, you're running on nothing but willpower and stubbornness!" Despite the distress, she reached out and took his hand, determined to make him listen to her.  
He looked up at her, the shadows of pain touching his eyes. Inner and outer pain. Deep, unyielding, heart-rending _pain_.  
Calleigh wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a flash of fear flicker there. It was so quick she almost thought she imagined it, but she knew something was very wrong. Something was haunting the man, driving him further and further into some tortuous, personal hell.  
It had started a long time ago, and she burned with inner anger and shame that she had not seen it, said something, been there. _Damn it, I didn't even see_ - _no. I didn't even_ look._ Horatio, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry_.  
The redhead's own feelings were just as turbulant._ I can't...I won't let anything happen to Calleigh...not her..._ The twisting, whirling pain tore at the order of his thoughts. _I can't lose her, too_. His heart ached as he told himself again, I can't let myself...  
The blonde didn't let go of his hand, just squeezed gently and held on. _Oh, Horatio. Please...just let me in. Let me help_. That deep pain was still there, and it tore at her heart. He looked down a moment, then lifted his gaze. His fingertips touched her's, gently, in a gentle gesture meant to reassure.  
Alexx caught her friend - and reluctant patient's - free arm and checked his pulse just as she felt the violent tremor that shook Horatio's form. Alarmed and worried, she helped ease him back as shudders shook through the redhead's body, despite his gritted teeth and struggle to supress it.  
Calleigh didn't release his hand, but held on, unwilling to let go. She looked over at Alexx, then realized, even in the throughs of some kind of siezure, he didn't clamp down on her hand hard enough to hurt. Only enough to squeeze her hand. Only enough to try and reassure _her_. She lifted her other hand, holding his hand in both of her's._ I won't let go_. she silently promised him. _I'll be right here with you_.

Ryan was staring at the spot their pursuers had just vacated while Eric addressed the gathered officers.  
_This is crazy_, he thought, looking over at the condo._ Those guys chased us four blocks, God knows what they did to H, and we barely know a thing._  
"I bet you're thinking what I'm thinking." Eric's voice startled him out of his thoughts.  
"Yeah?"  
"We just ran a mini-marathon and we don't know a thing."  
Ryan scowled. "I don't like that two dangerous men are still out there." he finally admitted. "Much less..." The CSI glanced back at the condo they had just left.  
Eric nodded in perfect understanding. "Me, either." With a shake of his head, the Cuban showed his frustration. "We're still in the dark."  
"I say we go back in there and find out what the hell is going on. For all we know, H could still be in danger."  
Eric nodded, eyes determined. "C'mon. Let's go check this out."

Natalia was in the lead as she and Walter returned to Evan Carson's home, this time with a pair of uniformed officers in tow.  
This time, there was no response to the bell.  
"The light is on." Walter's voice showed his annoyance.  
"Yeah, but he's not answering - think he's just ignoring us?"  
"With that guy, I wouldn't put it past him."  
Natalia knocked harder on the door. "Miami-Dade Police, we have a warrant! Open up!" she called. When there was no reply, the dark-haired woman turned and nodded to the two officers.  
The younger of the two took a step back and gave the door a pair of hard kicks. The entryway was soon open, and the CSIs led the officers in, everyone with their pistols drawn.  
Once inside, they looked around.  
"Whoa, someone got here before us." Walter stopped just inside the door, looking around at the destruction.  
Chairs were overturned, the carpet showed multiple footprints, and the rosaries were torn apart and clearly thrown in all directions.  
Together, the pair moved deeper in the house, carefully avoiding diturbing any evidence.  
It was very quiet.  
Silent.  
Still.  
"Mr. Carson!" Natalia called out.  
There was no answer, and after a few moments they made thier way to the spacious kitchen - and froze.  
Blood was spattered on the walls, pooled on the floor - and dripping from the very dead Evan Carson, who was hanging from the wall. His eyes were wide, shocked, his mouth open and slack.  
"Is that a stake?" Walter asked, staring at the weapon embedded in the man's chest.  
"We need to process this scene. Someone came in here and murdered our suspect, and recently." Natalia shook her head at the gruesome sight.

Horatio felt the tremors that shook his body, but found comfort in the hands holding his own hand, and tried to fight the violent shaking of his entire form. His muscles ached, his head ached, the world whirled wildly around him.  
_What's happening to me?_ Despite the strange - distortion - that made it difficult to concentrate, he was aware of the gentle grip of the blonde CSI, and Alexx checking his vital signs. Despite his best efforts, the overwheming exaustion from everything that had happened that long and brutal day swept over his abused and battered body and threw him into blackness.  
Calleigh felt the hand she held's grip slacken, and looked up worriedly at Alexx, who gave her a concerned but reassuring look.  
"Ian, I don't know what you're hiding, but he needs more tests, certianly more than I can give him here." The doctor was worried and frustrated, and all the wild activity was not helping her mood.  
The tall, raven-haired man rose, and spoke in a low voice. "If I reveal more, it must be in strictest confidence." He glanced almost apologetically at Calleigh, and motioned toward the kitchen. "Agreed?"  
Assured of the still redhead's steady pulse, the black woman rose and looked up into the man's emerald eyes, and a note of annoyed determination entered her voice. "Agreed, but this better be good." She moved over to Ian's side.  
Speed looked over at Jason, who was piching the bridge of his nose.  
"I hate complications, I hate complications...I so hate complications..." The blonde man groaned, shaking his head. "You know that, bein' CSIs and all, those two'll be right back here, right?"  
The dark-haired man shrugged, looked over at Horatio with undisguised concern, and regarded his companion steadily. "Do you blame them?"  
Jason's expression was wry as he looked over at the unconcious Lieutenant, back at Ian, and chuckled. "Nope. Not at all."

Eric paused at the door, glanced over at Ryan, and turned the doorknob, entering slowly and carefully.  
Jason trotted around the kitchen bar, meeting the pair as Ryan's hand reached behind them and closed the door after they were both inside.  
"Suprise, suprise." The blonde man grinned raffishly.  
Eric's dark eyes swept the room once, then turned back to meet Jason's gaze. "We need to know what's going on. We're..."  
The other man only shook his head, eyes turning to the chair. "I know whatcha mean. Horatio, right?"  
"What happened to him?" The young Cuban's voice was steady, concern clear in his speech.  
Speed was looking at the unconcious redhead as they spoke, then turned back to regard Eric. His dark eyes showed his own worry. The whole situation was getting almost maddening. He couldn't help the faint sigh that crossed his lips, aware of Eric's gaze turning to him. Ryan come few steps in, his green eyes turning toward the still and silent form of the man who had become like a father to him. After a moment, he looked back at the dark-haired, dark-eyed former CSI.  
"Okay, you know H was kidnapped." Speed was aware of Jason's expression, but at that moment even if the other man had tried to stop him, he knew he wouldn't. He saw both CSIs' eyes on him, and decided then and there they needed to know something. "Well, the two jerks we just had a run with were parta the group who who took him."  
"Why?" Eric's voice was tense, worried.  
"They beat the hell out of him, dosed him, and H got away." Speed had to close his eyes at the horrible memory flung up against his mind's eye. "He...died. For several minutes he was...gone."  
Eric swallowed hard, eyes flicking over to the the man who was more than a father to him. The thought of losing Horatio, of him being gone, made the young Cuban's heart drop to his heels. "Died?" his voice came out edged and horrified. "H...died?"  
"Oh, man." Ryan's voice came out as an alarmed exhale, his eyes widening in echoed horror.  
"That's why Ian moved us here..." Speed's expression tightened, though he wanted to say more, a glance at Ian's back stopped him from saying anything else.  
Ian looked at Alexx, then around at the gathered CSIs.  
As he did so, Greg could no longer bear the painful silence he'd been keeping. Everything was moving so fast, but his sharp mind warned him that the man laying on the couch was dying. He knew the medical truths of bone cancer, the ravages the disease left in it's wake, all clinical, neat, emotionless terms that couldn't sum up the terrible future facing the man who had always been a father-figure to him. He knelt down next to the couch and whispered, "Grissom..." He couldn't keep the tears from his eyes anymore.  
As if in answer, the deep blue eyes opened and met the younger man's. "Greg..." His eyes flickered to the chair across from him, then back to the shaken young CSI kneeling next to him. He managed a faint smile, looked into Sara's tear-filled dark eyes, and whispered, "Take care of Sara for me."  
Ian's eyes closed. _So much pain. Too much. Far too much_. he thought, and he felt a surge of anguish. "I must ask you - all of you - to keep what I am about to say in confidence." These were Horatio's friends. His family. Even the man laying still on the couch and the two Las Vegas CSIs, he was suddenly sure, would keep what he had to say to themselves. And Marc - well, that was a situation he knew was well in hand.  
"What do you know?" Eric's voice was sharp with his struggle to control his emotions.  
Ian looked around once more, then made a choice. His voice was soft and steady when he next spoke. "My name is Ian Caine. And Horatio - is my son."


	16. Disappearing Act

LOST SON OF AVALON

_Chapter 16_: Disappearing Act

"But remember. Just because you don't believe in something doesn't mean it isn't real."  
― Katherine Howe, "The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane"

For a moment Eric, Ryan, and Alexx simply gawked at the tall man, eyes showing various levels of shock, confusion, and disbelief.  
Alexx's expression was skeptical at best. "His father?" She levelled a stern gaze at Ian. "Both Horatio's parents are dead..."  
The raven-haired man raised his hand to his forehead, ran it down his face. He exhaled slowly, considering his next words with care. He glanced once at Calleigh, who turned her head to look around he room once, then looked back up into the still face of the unconcious redhead.  
"Unfortunately, Horatio's mother is dead." A flicker of pain passed through the emerald eyes, as his voice lowered slightly. "I am still very much alive."  
Eric looked straight into the eyes of the taller man. "H never mentioned you." His dark brown eyes were narrowed.  
Ian shook his head, the pain lancing through him with more agony than a knife would bring. "There is a reason for that." he murmered. _Forgive me, Horatio. I am responsible for far too much of your pain._  
"And that is?" The dark-skinned doctor crossed her arms and glared at the man, protective of her friend, now.  
"He doesn't know I exist."

Natalia was taking blood swabs while Doctor Loman's assistants lowered the dead body of Evan Carson onto a gurney.  
Walter looked up from his attempts to get clear fingerprints, and shook his head. "I can't believe somebody actually staked this guy." he commented.  
"Someone did indeed." Loman said, holding up the blood-stained, sharp wooden implement. "Right through the heart. Significant force, I might add."  
"There's some foot traffic through the blood, mostly on the edge." The dark-haired CSI shook her head. "They knew right where to step."  
"I guess the next thing we do is lift footprints."

"Wait a minute. That doesn't make any sense." Ryan's gaze followed his friends' to Ian's.  
Speed and Jason exchanged rueful looks, and the blonde man commented, "Sense has a wierd way of bouncing around the facts sometimes."  
"In this case," Ian interjected mildly, "I think I can help somewhat. I can back up what I say with quite real proof."  
"How?" Eric demanded.  
The tall, dark-haired man reached into his pocket and removed a card. "A paternity test. From my former station at Interpol."  
"Interpol?" Eric's expression was puzzled now. "You're with Interpol?"  
"Attached to the Embassy. For the moment." Ian turned to regard Alexx, who had stationed herself between the dark-haired man and her friend. "Do you know a Doctor Franz Hidenburg?"  
"Only by reputation. A researcher into genetics and biochemistry, one of the best minds..."  
Ian held up the card. "His private number is on this. I asked for the most extensive tests available, to have available proof. If you wish, contact the doctor for confirmation of the information on the front." he said, mildly. He offered the laminated object to Alexx, as if in a peace gesture.  
Alexx reached over and took the card, examining it closely. Her eyes widened as she read. "Oh, my God."  
"Alexx?" Eric's concerned voice cut into the doctor's thoughts.  
"He's not lying. This is from CSI personnel files, and Interpol's own files - a 99.98% percent match between Horatio and..." she looked up at Ian, eyes full of questions. "Him."

"Okay, we have three people that did this." Natalia said, using a lifter to carefully copy the last print. "Sizes 11, 8, and 12."  
Walter came back from looking around the living room. "It looks like whoever did this came in just to kill him. I looked around, nothing looked like it was moved except the rosaries - they were ripped to pieces." He was clearly puzzled.  
"They wanted him dead, that's for sure."  
"The floor in there looks like they chased him from in there to in here."  
"This case just keeps getting more bizarre."

Now all the Miami CSIs and the former Medical Examiner were staring at Ian, who paused to glance back at the still Horatio, then returned his gaze to the trio regarding him.  
As they spoke, Gil stirred and opened his eyes. His gaze met Sara's, and he stilled as the pain lashed viciously through his bones, through his muscles, through his entire body. His hand squeezed her's as he whispered, "Promise me...you'll let Greg and Horatio help you." Torment was clear in his dark blue eyes. A tremor passed through him as he tried to say more.  
Greg rested a gentle hand on Sara's tense shoulder, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he tried to offer comfort while his own heart broke.  
The former CSI's voice was urgent as he managed, "Promise me."  
A tear tracked down the dark-haired CSI's cheek as she nodded, and Gil spoke softly, with conviction but in an almost shy tone, "I love you, Sara."  
"Gil..." The tears that had been threatening now flooded Sara's eyes. Just for a moment, she rested her forehead on her husband's chest, felt his free arm come up and tenderly held her. Her voice shook despite her best effort, but she spoke from her heart. "I'll always love you."  
A ghost of his former smile touched the exausted man's lips before, weary to the core, the dark blue eyes closed and the dying man slipped back down into merciful oblivion.  
For one moment, everyone paused, silenced by the pain that radiated from the trio on and near the couch.  
Then, the tall man turned his emerald gaze on them, expression showing his own pain. Though the dying man and his companions tore at his heart, Ian's fear and anguish for his son overshadowed everything. He spoke before anyone else could. "Before you even ask, yes, I should have told him far before now. I should have been there, but there were...complications." His voice was very soft.  
"Yeah, some of them with guns. And worse." Jason interjected.  
Eric and Ryan both stared at the blonde man a moment, before Ian again picked up the conversation.  
"There remain some, ah, complications I must contend with, regarding my son." He sighed softly. "Aside from explaining myself to him. A situation as deadly as those..."  
"Jerks? Slimeballs? Morons?" supplied Jason, helpfully.  
A faint smile tugged at the corners of the dark-haired man's mouth. "Any description is rather accurate. However, I must handle this with more than a little care."  
"You still haven't told us what this is all about." Ryan pointed out, watching the older man closely.  
"No. And I cannot, not yet. I...need to explain what is happening to Horatio." Ian closed his eyes, then opened them. "I must ask that you trust me. Give me some time..."  
"There's something you don't want us to know." Eric's eyes met Ian's, fierce and concerned.  
"Yes. I can only assure you - I want to help him. I have no intention of harming him. In any way."  
Eric frowned, turning to look at Ryan, then both CSIs stared at the taller, dark-haired man.  
"What do you intend to do?" the young Cuban asked.  
"As much as possible." Ian turned his emerald eyes on the pair. "To have any chance to save him, I need time, quiet, and privacy."  
"To do what?" Ryan demanded.  
"Save him from a fate worse than death."

Natalia and Walter both entered the mourge just as Loman was starting Evan Carson's autopsy.  
"Anything? The dark-haired woman spoke first.  
"Well, I've just started, but I don't see any sign of injury except, of couse, the staking itself." Loman's voice was slightly puzzled. "With all the force from the wound, it's a little strange that there's no other injuries. Very little bruising."  
"Sounds like he might have known the attackers." commented Walter, thoughtfully.  
"Yes." The ME checked the wound again, then looked back up. "Well, on a more positive note, I have an ID on the driver that killed Jenny Thorpe." He glanced down at the clipboard on the table. "Robert Jameson, and I found one thing intresting about him."  
Both CSIs looked at him questioningly.  
"He was in the early stages of fibrous dysplasia."  
"I'm not sure I've heard of that often - isn't it a bone disease?" Natalia frowned to herself, trying to recall more.  
"It's uncommon. His had only shown up recently, the bones are bowed, and his left leg was beginning to fracture. It would have been easy to miss, except that the left leg's deformity was relatively pronounced."

"What's happening to him?" It was Calleigh who spoke, her green eyes flashing.  
"It is rather complex." Ian replied softly. He looked at everyone in the room. "Perhaps we can compromise."  
"Compromise?" Eric's gaze showed his disbelief.  
"Yes." Ian looked over at Speed and Jason, then back at the concerned CSIs.  
_His family._ Ian thought, and a wave of sadness rushed over him._ This is his family. Forgive me._  
Emerald eyes swept the room. "I will take Horatio, Calleigh, and Doctor Woods with me to a secure location. Jason and Speed will go with you. One of us will keep in contact with you, and upgrade you on his status reguarly. In that time, I will do all I can to help my son." He glanced once more at the pair at the bar. "You know how to reach me."  
Jason huffed softly, then nodded.  
Ian moved quickly, wrapping one arm around Horatio's still body, catching Calleigh's hand in that hand, while wrapping his other hand around Alexx's upper arm. "Forgive me." His whispered words carried a sincere regret as, suddenly, the three were simply no longer there.  
Everyone - with the exception of the unconcious Gil, Speed, and Jason - gawked at the empty space for several seconds.  
"Poof." muttered Jason to himself, with a shake of his head.


	17. Worth Fighting For

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter 17 - Worth Fighting For

"Think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was I had such friends."  
- William Butler Yeats

The moment the world winked back in, Calleigh felt the dark-haired man release her, saw him release Alexx, then catch Horatio's unconcious form, swinging him effortlessly up into his arms. For a moment, Ian's arms tightened, as if to shield the man he held from harm and pain.  
"What just happened?" demanded the blonde, green eyes glaring at the enigmatic, raven-haired man.  
Alexx's own eyes were shooting daggers as she joined the other woman in looking around.  
The room was wide, with plain grey stone walls, floor, and ceiling. There were four chairs, also grey, and a simple, raised platform that most likely once held a bedframe at one time against the wall.  
Gently, almost tenderly, Ian lowered the still body onto the platform. When he looked back there was a faint shine in his eyes, a look of pain that was more than anguished. But his voice was steady when he finally answered. "This is a - safehouse." Rising to regard the two women, he continued. "We are near Miami, that is all I can say, for now."  
"All right, I have had about all I intend to take." Alexx, normally a woman of known easy temper, looked ready to explode. "I don't know who the hell you are or what you're hiding, but you better start talking, Mister!"  
Ian's expression was suddenly calm again, focused. "Can you imagine madness?" His voice was very soft.  
Calleigh's gaze turned to the redhead so still on the stone. "What do you mean?" she demanded, green eyes flashing.  
"Imagine all your life, there has been darkness all around you. No sight, no sound, no sense at all." Both women were staring at the raven-haired man.  
"Like sensory deprivation." Alexx stated, dark eyes still angry.  
"I would think that is as good a description as any." Ian closed his eyes a moment, then opened them. "Now add to that having placed thought behind a wall. Just enough to know the thought is there, not enough to visualize it. A shield from the emotions memories bring."  
Calleigh and Alexx looked at each other, then back at the man between them and Horatio.  
"Now imagine - in one moment, everything is _there_. Vivid. Real." his hands balled into fists. "Most of those of my kind with the gift of _draíochta_ - and out of our scant numbers, that has been less than ten - seven were destoyed by it. Shattered from within." His emerald eyes flickered briefly, haunted, then focused back in. "But thier agony leaves a horrible legacy - it warps minds, destroys the very fragile reality we weave. The effect is massive - I have seen cities felled by it, the madness of it incites chaos - war, violence, misery, despair."  
"What does this have to do with..." Calleigh stopped. Part of her knew what the raven-haired man was going to say. Most of her denied it. Desperately denied it.  
"What I am, he is. What I can do, he can - one day." Ian's voice was very soft. "Assuming he survives." _He must survive! Not just survive - live. I cannot lose him. Not again._  
"Are you telling me that this - whatever - could kill Horatio?" Alexx studied the face of the man, worry beginning to gnaw at her heart, shoving her frustration aside. At least for the moment.  
"That word - you said it meant magic. Are you telling me Horatio can use magic?" To say Calleigh was skeptical would be a severe understatement.  
Ian shook his head slowly. "Now? No." He could only ache for what could happen to his son. He could only pray. "We have a term for surviving this. _Deascabhála_. Ascension. One such - effort - caused such mayhem that it was a catastrophe of epic proportions. Your history tells the story."  
"What history?" Calleigh started to step around him, and Ian didn't stop her.  
"The fall of the Roman Empire."  
By the time the blonde CSI had knelt and taken Horatio's hand in her's, Alexx had joined her at the redhead's side.  
"What are you going to do?" Alexx asked, gently checking her friend's pulse.  
"There should have been more time." Ian said, almost to himself. "Nineteen more hours. But it will happen at any time. Before I was ready. I have little time before Hell decends on Horatio, and I fear, all the odds are stacked against him."

Eric looked ready to charge the bar and shake some answers out of the blonde man, but his gaze was almost pleading as he regarded his friend standing next to the other man. "We need to know more, Speed." His voice was frustrated. "We can't just leave H..."  
"We aren't." The dark-haired former CSI was once more hit with a wave of guilt. Then his voice was firm, steady. "We won't." Almost to himself, he whispered, "We can't."  
"Sometimes ya gotta trust in things you can't quite understand." Jason jumped in then, aware of Speed's uncharacteristic discomfiture. "Believe me, Ian'd die before he'd let anything happen to Horatio. If anyone can save him, Ian can."  
"Save him from _what_?" demanded Ryan, his eyes showing his own irritation. "You really haven't told us _anything_."  
Jason ran one hand through his hair, looked once at Speed, then blew out a gust of air. "You're right. And it ain't really fair to you guys, bein' his family and all." He considered, then said carefully, "Let me put it like this - Horatio's really sick, and Ian can save him...the illness is kinda like a really nasty form of sensory deprivation." His grin was rueful and self-depreceating. "Kinda - err - unique? Let's just say that, and it can be contagious."  
"Contagious? Sensory deprivation?" Eric stared at the blonde, expression dubious.  
"It's - well, I guess the best way to describe it is genetic. Happens once, if it does happen..." Jason looked thoughtful. "And it's really_ really_ rare. I mean, almost-never kind of rare. When it does happen, it's bad."  
"Ian's an expert on genetics." Speed added, aware of Eric and Ryan looking at one another. "Doctor, all that."  
Jason straightened up suddenly, an idea clearly dawning on him. "I gave my word - and so did Speed here - that we'd help Ian help Horatio, that means ain't a lot I can say." He looked pointedly at the two CSIs. "But if you wanna know about someone's dad, wouldn't you start with somebody who knew about their son?"  
"Clever." Speed managed a faint smile.  
The blonde jerked his head toward the unconcious man on the couch and the two beside him. "We'll stay here an' help with Doctor Grissom. You guys motor and ask - ah - somebody who knows what Horatio might hide. Might lead you from your boss to mine." He rummaged in his backpack, pulled out an object, and tossed it to Eric, who caught it reflexively.  
"A cell phone?" Ryan regarded the pair behind the bar.  
"Yeah._ Secure_ cell phone. Got Speed and me's cell numbers on it." Jason's grin was raffish. "So you can buzz us when you know more, and a'course, we can do the same when we know something." He regarded the CSIs with an impish expression. "Now, scram - go be CSIs. We'll hold down the fort."  
Eric and Ryan looked at each other, and Speed held his forehead on his hand a moment, then said, "Eric, be careful. Watch out for being followed." He shrugged and continued, his sardonic humor returning. "Nice to meet ya, Ryan."  
Ryan's expression was rueful. "Yeah. You, too."

Natalia and Walter were sorting through crime scene photographs, fingerprint and shoeprints, and now, medical records.  
"So far, we have one man dead due to what we think was a bomb, and one staked through the heart. They look unrelated." Walter said, flicking through the pictures.  
Natalia sighed softly, and picked up a photo at random, rubbing her eyes. "Robert Jameson ran over Jenny Thorpe, and no-one saw anything until after the fact. Evan Carson was staked, no one saw anything. Two deaths, no witnesses." Her frustration was obvious.  
"Yeah. And..." Walter stopped.  
The dark-haired woman closed her eyes, then opened them. "He'd...he'd want us to keep looking." she whispered.  
Looking back down at the photos, both CSIs hoped that their missing friend would soon be back, safe.  
The alternative simply could not happen.

Horatio moved slightly, feeling that strange - distorion. Fickers of images danced in front of his mind's eye, color and sound - and pain. Every thought brought more intense silent sounds, the cries of the dying, the doomed, the dead.  
_Where were you? Why didn't you save us?_  
Anguish flared white-sharp-cold in his heart, twisting through him in an ice so cold it burned. _I..._ What could he say? What comfort could he give, now?  
_Why am I alive, not them? Why?_ The tormented thought danced like icy fire through him.  
_ Your fault...your fault..._  
Calleigh felt the redhead's hand tense, the sudden flicker of a tumult of emotions trying to show themselves in one, tortured expression. "Horatio?" she whispered, as she lightly squeezed his hand. "Stay with me, Handsome." The blonde looked over at Alexx, who was frowning, brow furrowed.  
"His blood pressure is skyrocketing."  
The redhead mumbled incoherantly. "No...help...no help at all..." The words tumbled over one another, velvet underscored with the shadows of something massive. The grip on Calleigh's hand slackened, and she felt the sudden drop in temperature through Horatio's skin.  
Ian felt his heart clench. Oh, he could describe the horror creeping over his son - but words became clumsy and almost useless in the face of it. His own trial had almost destroyed him, so long ago. Ages could pass, and he would never forget those terrible days, where not even madness could shield him. The times he had prayed for death. Now that awful legacy has reappeared in his only child. _I should have been there for you, Horatio. I should have never left you near that monster. How do I tell you how to fight the past? What feeble excuse can I offer?_ His emerald eyes closed, his fists clenched, as he whispered, _"Le do thoil, in ainm gach rud go maith, déan trócaire ar mo mhac."_

In the end, Ryan, said, unable to keep the concern from his voice, "I don't like this."  
"Me, either. But our choices are pretty limited." Eric was frustrated, and equally as concerned. His gaze flicked back to the miracliously returned Speed. "I know somebody we might get some answers from."  
"Who?"  
"Commissioner Kline." He turned his gaze back to Ryan. "Marshall Kline."  
"Captain Kline?" Ryan was taken aback. "He's a Commissioner now?"  
"Yeah - and I remember H mentioning him a couple times when we needed more personnel from the Department."  
"So they knew each other?"  
"I think so. As he'd have more information on H's background, since he also oversaw the Bomb Squad."  
Ryan turned to give the pair still behind the bar a brief glare, then nodded reluctantly. "Okay. Let's go."  
As the pair left, Jason looked back at Speed. "Well...it _is_ a start." he commented.  
"You think it'll lead 'em back to Ian?"  
"It'll point 'em to the past, which's always a good place to start."

Natalia was going through the photographs again, now that they'd been entered into the computer. Wordlessly, she glared at the screen, wishing there was more there.  
As she scanned the photograph of Evan Carson's front room closely, for what felt like the thousandth time, she noticed something. Leaning in closer, she saw the outline of a tiny device. "Walter!" she called, staring at the small, thin, black box sticking out from underneath a demolished rosary. "Does that look like what I think it looks like?"  
The young black man stared where she was pointing. "Looks almost like a car opener." His eyes widened. "Or..."  
"A bomb trigger." Natalia couldn't keep the triumph from her voice. "It looks like out unrelated murders may just be related after all."

Eric and Ryan had a suprisingly easy time gaining a meeting with Commissioner Kline.  
Unlike many of his fellows, Kline had opted for simple, comforable surroundings with an underscoring of simple but pleasent objects and functional, comforatable chairs in light browns and soft creams. The few art pieces on the wall centered around boxing, past and present. Even the receptionist's desk was simply neat and clean, certianly not ostentacious.  
"May I help you?" The receptionist was a kind-eyed older woman with a friendly, welcoming voice.  
"I'm CSI Delko, and this is CSI Wolfe. We need to speak with the Commissioner." Eric had expected resistance, probably complaints about a lack of appointments, but the woman merely nodded politely. She picked up the phone and tapped an extension.  
"Commissioner? Yes, sir...I have two CSIs that would like to speak to you. Yes, sir. I'll send them right in."  
Moments later, the two were entering the office, and Commissioner Kline looked up to meet them, a friendly smile on his face. "Good afternoon, gentlemen." He stood up, his warm voice genuine and intrested. "How is Captain Caine these days?"  
Both CSIs stared at him.  
"Captain? You mean Lieutenant Caine?" Eric was as startled as his companion, and he glanced over at Ryan.  
Kline's eyes widened and he sat back in his chair. "Oh, no." he murmured, expression distressed. "Horatio is going to skin me."  
"Wait a minute, are you saying H is a _Captain_?" Ryan stared at the man.  
Eric realized his mouth was hanging open and closed it with an almost-audible snap. "He never said anything..." was all he could get out._ What the hell? H, why wouldn't you tell us?_  
Kline rubbed the back of his neck absently, then motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat." he offered, sounding almost sheepish. After the two startled CSIs settled into their seats, the older man shook his head. "It took us three years to get Horatio to accept a Captain's rank, in the end we made a deal...heaven help me, he'd gonna be_ furious_...we agreed he stay in the field, accept the position of Supervisor over the CSI Labs in Miami-Dade, Broward, Collier, and Munroe Counties - our attempt to co-ordinate all of the Labs in Florida. In exchange, we keep the whole thing quiet." He ran a hand through his hair. "Like I said, he's gonna have my head for that slip of the tongue."  
Both CSIs regarded the Commissioner a moment, still a little in shock at the idea of Horatio Caine being a _Captain_ - and at the fact he had apparently hidden it for quite some time.  
"You know he's missing?" It was half a question, as Ryan shifted in his chair.  
"Yes, it went out on the wire." Kline looked concerned. "Is he...?"  
"We need access to his records to track down information on the man who, well, may know more than he's willing to tell us. We have to start at the beginning."  
Kline looked uncomfortable. "His privacy is really important to him..." he started.  
"Well, H is really important to _us_." Eric's concern was evident, as Ryan nodded silently in agreement. "We need more information."  
The Commissioner sighed, ceding to the inevitable. "All right, and please just call me Marshall. And...let's keep this discreet, alright?"  
"No problem." Ryan agreed, immediately.

The whirling, tilting sensation was back, tearing at Horatio's mind. Voices cried out, whispered, threatened, wept. He wanted to explain. He wanted to offer comfort. Instead tiny blasts of sensation began to report in.  
Then _all_ his senses suddenly exploded. Every whisper, every tone, every faint hiss of air. Whirls of color and texture. He could taste metal on his tounge. He could smell the flecks of ozone in the air. Cold and heat assaulted his entire body. Everything - _everything_ - tore into his conciousness as if to mock reality with increasing intensity.  
Then the memories came rising up from thier contained, controlled crypts and everything lashed around, over - _through_ - him.  
_No!_ His silent cry went unheeded as the dead seemed to rise, united in their cries of, _You weren't there...your fault..._  
The wraiths circled, joined by those he had loved. His mother. His brother.  
_Marisol._  
Locked in a struggle for his very sanity, he could only snap his hands over his ears, but stll the images of the lost flashed through Horatio's mind, while the overwheming blasts of physical sensation battered against his awareness.  
Calleigh had felt Horatio's hand jerk uncharacteristically from her grasp, saw his hands fly to cover his ears, saw the flickers of pain and horror crack through the careful control. She desperately wanted to hold him, but his subtle struggles made her hesitate. Instead, she looked at Alexx, who's worried expression did nothing to comfort, then back at Ian.  
"It's started." The pain in his voice was too real. His gaze was on the agitated redhead, as he whispered, "Hold on, Horatio. Please, hold on." Gently but firmly, Ian pulled both women back, away from the tortured redhead. When both resisted, he said gently, "Believe me," and infinate sadness was in the tall man's voice, "you do not want to be in physical contact when this reaches it's next stage."

Jason was rummaging around in his ever-present backpack, coming up with a torn, but clean, cloth, and went over to the sink. Running cold water over the material, he wrung it out, and went back to where Gil Grissom lay on the couch.  
Sara and Greg looked up at the blonde man, who knelt down next to them, pressing the folded object into Sara's hand. Tears still in her eyes, she gently placed the damp cloth on Gil's forehead.  
"We're gonna do everything we can ta help him, you know." Jason said, eyes lifting to meet the woman's.  
"He's..." Sara stopped, unable to articulate the word _dying_. She could barely think it. Much less accept it.  
Jason met her gaze, turning slightly to include Greg in his next statement. "Just remember - he's alive. An' I've always found one thing about livin' that's true: where there's life, there's hope."

By the time Natalia and Walter had pieced together a possible image of at least one of the two crime scenes, they realized almost simeltaneously that one, they hadn't eaten in hours, and two, they were physically exausted by more than a day of constant, painstaking work.  
Both were reluctant to stop their efforts, and the Night Shift was tactfully giving them space, but finally the dark-haired woman exhaled hard. "My eyes won't focus anymore." she admitted.  
Walter looked up, sheepishly. "Me, either." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm just about flattened."  
"Let's take a couple hours. We have to make sure we don't start making mistakes."

Eric and Ryan had reached a similar conclusion as their fellow CSIs, and after Kline handed them a piece of paper with a password, torn from a notepad, they both stood. "Thank you." Eric said, sincerely. "We'll be as discreet as possible."  
The older man nodded. "Please let me know the moment you find out anything." he requested, voice honestly concerned.  
"We will." Ryan's nod was respectful.  
Both men made their way out of the office, down the stairs, and to the Hummer, where both collapsed in the seats.  
"I don't want to slow down." Eric said, determinedly, though he rested his head on the steering wheel a moment in exaustion.  
"Me, either." Ryan's head was back against the rest, eyes closed. "But if we don't, we're gonna mess up. We can't afford that."  
Eric groaned, the set his warch timer. "A couple hours should help." he said, wearily.  
"Yeah."  
Both men checked around the parking lot - grateful for the secure area - rolled down their respective windows, and settled back.

Calleigh turned to glare at Ian, and was joined an instant later by Alexx, united in their concern for Horatio.  
The tall, raven-haired man met the angry blonde's gaze, and spoke quietly. "You share a special bond with my son." He looked over at the now _very_ angry former ME. "You are his friend, part of his family." His gaze turned back to meet Calleigh's. "If you were to make physical contact while the next stage of this occurs, you could end up sharing his - turmoil."  
"His heart-rate is up, his temperature is too low, he could slide into shock at any time." Alexx's expression was fierce as she spoke, dark eyes blazing.  
"What do you mean?" Calleigh met Ian's gaze. "Share his turmoil?"  
"With as much - sensory input - Horatio is suffering, you might be caught in his awareness, and it might overwhem you." Ian's expression was openly distraught.  
Both women were still skeptical of the entire "magic" idea, but Calleigh leapt on the idea of anything - anything - that could help the man she loved. _Yes, love_... she thought, fiercely, almost defiantly. _I'm not letting this hurt him anymore. I'm not going to let him face this alone._ Calleigh looked over at the silently suffering Horatio. She squared her shoulders, and thought,_ You're not alone anymore, Handsome. You're more than worth fighting for_.  
Ian studied her face a moment, and felt a surge of anguish scrabble at his heart. And prayed that indeed, love could conquer all.  
_Even this_, he thought, painfully. _Even this_.

IRISH

"_Le do thoil, in ainm gach rud go maith, déan trócaire ar mo mhac_." - "Please, in the name of all things good, have mercy on my son."


	18. Cracking the Code

-  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello! Thank you again all for the kind words, I'm still writing but currently with only one hand operational. Sorry for the gap between installments. Please keep up the feedback, it definately helps me and my constantly hyperkenetic muse! :) Just to warn everyone, this Chapter is a bit gruesome in places. Anyway, I hope you are all still enjoying this tale, there is DEFINATELY more on the way! :) Also, for anyone intrested, I'm going to be trying to update a few things in previous chapters, if you want to glance over them, but none of my corrections are really that major. Have a great day, and remember - "_We never close._" ;)

Thanks,  
Shadewynde

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter 18 - Cracking the Code

"Secrets press inside a person. They press the way water presses at a dam. The secrets and the water, they both want to get out."  
― Franny Billingsley, Chime

Jason dropped his weight back on his heels, then stood up, in one easy movement.  
Sara didn't even notice. All her attention was on her husband's pale face, and his slow, labored breathing.  
Greg was still next to her, and he found himself torn between two wishes: Grissom to just be okay, to wake up and be himself and..._okay_...a second one that twisted his heart. Because in the last one, Grissom never woke up. Never suffered. Just...went peacefully.  
Marc watched the interplay, not daring to move. He knew cancer. His own mother had died - slowly and painfully - of ovarian cancer, years ago. So his heart ached for the pair standing guard as best they could for a man they clearly both loved.  
Speed looked over at his friend, and spoke in a low voice. "Is he...?"  
"I think he could make it a five or six days. Maybe a little longer." Jason shook his head, ruffling his hair up. "I hate seein' the poor guy sufferin'. Nobody deserves this damn kinda pain."  
"Yeah." Speed's expression showed his own dislike of death's slow approach.  
Lowering his voice so only the laconic, dark-haired man could hear, the blonde said softly, "If it comes down to it, buddy - one quick shot. Quick and clean. Painless."

A strident beeping invaded Eric's sleep-fogged mind, and he forced his eyes open, blinking hard to clear them.  
Ryan groaned and shook his head, rubbing his hands over his face.  
The young Cuban lifted his watch, saw the time, and almost did a double-take. "_Five hours?!_" he almost yelled. "Dammit, how did I not wake up?" He was furious with himself.  
"Man, how did we sleep so long?" Ryan shook his head, once, then blinked. He was upset with himself as well.  
Eric looked out into the bright sunlight, and promised himself to not sleep again until he knew Horatio was safe.

Horatio was fading in and out of the strange, almost-delirium. He couldn't seem to get his mind to focus, instead simply aware of thoughts tumbling uncontrollably around in his head.  
Calleigh watched his internal struggles, wishing she could ease his disquiet. But when the blonde started to move toward the restless redhead, Ian blocked her way. His emerald eyes were full of pain, but he reached out and gently but firmly held her back.  
"You let me go." The increase in the strength of the CSI's Southern accent was a clear warning sign.  
But Ian shook his head, unhappy but determined. "I fear I cannot. For both your sakes."  
"He's getting worse!" Calleigh exploded.  
"His body can't deal with much more." Alexx added, angrily, glaring at the dark-haired man. "We can't just stand here and do_ nothing_!"  
Ian looked over at the sharp, agitated movements of his son, fought down his own, aching, roiling pain, then turned back to the two upset women.  
"You are doing something for him." The dark-haired man's was voice was soft. "Never underestimate the spiritual in favor of the physical."  
Calleigh and Alexx both stared at him.  
"Standing there, you are loving him. That alone may be a lifeline that he can grasp."

Every once and a while, Ryan was spooked by something.  
This time, it was Eric's driving. Normally, the dark-skinned man's automotive skills never gave his fellow CSI pause.  
Right now, however, it was all he could do to not cling to the armrest, brace his other hand against the ceiling, and squeeze his eyes shut.  
Utterly focused on getting back to the Lab, back to the search, Eric finally pulled the Hummer into the parking lot. Shoving the gearshift into park, Eric unlocked the doors and was out in heartbeats.  
Relieved, but not wanting to show it, Ryan slid down, breaking into a sprint to keep up with his friend as Eric hit the ground at a run. They entered the building at speed, focused on their search for their friend and boss.

Horatio felt the roiling, violent surge of physical sensation actually grew_ stronger_. Added to that was a harsh, merciless flashes of memory. His lost family. Lost friends. Lost innocence, lost hope, all around him.  
Pain, coiling around his heart, biting at his wounded soul.  
Memories rose up, choking him, flashing mockingly before his mind's eye.  
And when the worst began their horrible replay, he could only pray for madness.  
But sanity refused to flee, and he was forced to watch - and suffer.

Natalia met Walter as they both re-entered the Trace Lab, both feeling better after their brief rest and snack in the break room. Neither said a word, but went immediately back to the computer.  
"I feel like I can see again." Walter said, stretching up on his toes, before sitting down in front of the computer.  
"Me, too." agreed Natalia, covering a huge yawn with the back of her hand. Tapping in her password, she started to piece together the two scenes. "I'm thinking that Jameson knew something, and Carson used a bomb to get rid of him - then our unknown assailants got rid of Carson."  
"Yeah - A, to B, to C. We just need to figure out what our murder victims knew." Walter's expression was thoughtful.  
Out of the corner of both CSI's eyes, they saw Eric and Ryan charge through the hallway. As they turned, both men were both disappearing into the AV Lab.  
Turning back to meet her friend's eyes, Natalia sighed and suggested, "Let's give them a bit before we ask."  
Walter nodded in agreement, turning back to regard the screen.

Eric dropped into a seat and commented, "I know we need to know more, but I almost feel, well..."  
"Nosy?" Ryan took the other chair, and regarded his friend.  
"Yeah." The dark-skinned CSI took a deep breath. "Well, when he gets back, I'll apologize."  
"_We'll_ apologize."  
With a grateful nod, Eric pulled up the CSI personnel files. Quickly, he typed in Horatio's name, then entered the password Commissioner Kline had supplied.  
Immediately, a prompt came up.  
_Educational, Juvenile, or Professional?_  
"Might as well start at the beginning." quipped Eric, tapping in Educational.  
_Specify Educational Level._  
Eric and Ryan looked at each other, then Ryan suggested, "Try "All"."  
Nodding, the Cuban CSI moved the selection bar to the top of the screen, highlighting the word "All".  
Both men expected the requisite Bachelor's Degree, but a moment later, both were gawking at the list on the screen.

Accepted into Doctorate Program: Chemical Engineering, Genetics  
Masters: Chemical Engineering, Computer Engineering, Genetics  
Bachelors: Biochemistry, Biology, Biotechnology, Chemistry, Computer Science, Criminal Psychology, Forensic Science, Genetics, Physics  
Associates: Art, Literature, Music

For a moment, both CSIs simply stared uncomprehendingly at the display, stunned.  
"My God - I knew H was smart, but..." Eric got out.  
"Wow." Ryan managed. "Look at that - _MIT_? Damn!"  
The pair stared at each other, then back at the screen.

Horatio tried to fight down the specters of his past, but blood seemed to leak in from the corners of his vision. It spread slowly. thickly, across the floor.  
_Drip-drip-drip._  
He was standing in a room, similar to the Morgue back at CSI but larger, colder.  
Drawers glinted dully in the light, while the overhead fixture swayed and clanked faintly as it lit the room.  
_Drip-drip-drip._  
A drawer flew back, revealing a dead, decaying body.  
Then another.  
And another.  
They were all familiar.  
"No..." he choked out as the horribly dead forms rose, like grotesque marionettes on a twisted puppeteer's strings. Dead eyes open, hands outstretched, they shambled toward him, backing him toward the wall. Bare feet slide-stepped along the stone floor as they gathered, moving toward him in near-unison.  
Marisol.  
Raymond.  
His mother.  
Al Humphries.  
Jesse Cardoza.  
Friends.  
A myriad of distorted, familiar faces.  
Whispers, sibilant and accusing, wafted toward him.  
Other drawers were opening, figures moving.  
Eric.  
Speed.  
Alexx.  
Ryan.  
Natalia.  
Walter.  
Calleigh.  
"No..._no_..._NO!_" Each silent, agonized cry was drowned out by a horrible, unified whisper.  
_Your fault...your fault..._

Jason watched the three for a long moment, then turned back to Speed. "We need ta get some food in him." He glanced back, then continued, "An' we gotta eat somethin' too."  
Speed nodded agreement, absently.  
The blonde man swung his backpack over his shoulder, then spoke to Sara.  
"Hey, what does the good Doc like to eat?"  
"Eat?" Sara blinked a few times, reluctantly turning her gaze to regard Jason. "He always liked Chinese..."  
"Great. I'll snag enough for six."  
"I'm not hungry." Sara's eyes turned back to her husband.  
"Me, either." Greg agreed, his voice showing his own pain.  
"If you guys pass out 'cause ya don't eat, Doctor Grissom loses you guys while yer down. How's that help?" Jason pointed out.  
"Just...anything is fine." Sara had to agree with the blonde's assessment.  
"I'll take whatever." Greg agreed, still struggling with his feelings of pain, fear, and guilt.  
Jason looked at Speed. "The usual?"  
"Yeah." The dark-eyed man shrugged. Food was hardly the most important thing on his mind.  
"Marc?"  
"Ummm...anything is fine..." stammered the shy young man.  
"Easy crowd." Jason grinned, nodded once to the room in general, then slipped out the back door, grabbing the key off the counter on the way out.

Digging through every available record seemed to turn out nothing in common between Robert Jameson and Evan Carson.  
Until Natalia noticed one donation - a sizable one at $2,500 - both had made, to The Cathedral of Saint Mary two days ago. On the "Notes" line was a familiar name. "Look at this." she said, turning toward her companion.  
"That's a pretty big donation." Walter commented, taking the offered copy and looking it over.  
"Didn't Eric and Ryan check out a priest at that church?" Natalia stared at the screen she was scanning over.  
"Yeah. That's a pretty big coincidence."  
"Too big a coincidence."  
Their eyes met, and Natalia nodded to herself. "We need to let Eric and Ryan know about this."

Eric leaned back in his chair, still stunned at what they had learned. He had always known Horatio was brilliant, the man could look at a crime scene and see more in a few seconds than most people saw the entire investigation, but this was crazy.  
_H, why are you working so hard to hide this?_ thought the Cuban, genuinely puzzled. It was almost as if he was - what? Embarrassed? _Why? Why seal an Educational record? Why would you be embarassed?_ It didn't make sense.  
"You remember, that your friend Speed said Ian was a Doctor in Genetics." Ryan looked over at his friend. "You think they might have crossed paths in that?"  
Eric tapped in a search, mentioning, "Looks like H took most of his course-load online." A series of commands brought up a list of faculty, no match to the name Ian Caine. After a moment's thought, he pulled up a list of guest lecturers. "Bingo. Ian Caine, Interpol, guest speaker on genetic anomalies in criminal investigation. "  
"That's a start." Ryan leaned forward in his chair, reading over the other CSI's shoulder. "Says he gave an online lecture less than a year ago."  
"So we know he's an expert on genetics, met H online, and now has him somewhere." Eric shook his head. "It's a connection."  
Natalia pushed open the door, holding the recently-gathered report in her hand. "We have another connection."  
Eric and Ryan both turned, startled by the dark-haired woman's words.  
"What do you mean?" Eric spoke first.  
"Robert Jameson was killed with a bomb trigger owned by Evan Carson - and both made a pretty large donation to The Cathedral of Saint Mary two days ago." She passed Eric the report. "Look who it's directed to."  
Ryan blinked. "Andozza's church. And Andozza's name." he stated, eyes narrowing at the thought of the priest.  
"Yeah." Eric frowned. "So the guy we think attacked H is a priest at the church our two murder victims made large donations to. I knew there was something that stunk about that guy."  
"Still probably not enough for a search warrant." Ryan pointed out.  
"No, but we're definitely starting to get the big picture."


	19. Back Edge of Sanity

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter Nineteen: _Back Edge of Sanity_

"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage."  
- Lucius Annaeus Seneca

Jason checked about, moved forward, then around to the back of the condo. Again, he unobtrusively looked about. Then he moved again, ignoring the bags clutched to his chest, shoulders down, gait shambling.  
To an outside observer, he was just a drunk looking for easy access to a comfortable, empty apartment.  
Climbing the back stairs, the blonde man shifted the bags, using the borrowed key to open the door. He slipped in, arms laden, and balanced them all on one arm. That allowed him to pull the door shut behind him, lock the door, and redistribute the bags.  
Speed came around the bar, relieving Jason of two of the large bags. "This is a big order for six." commented the former CSI.  
"Got some extra. Just in case." Glancing once over at the vigilant pair next to the silent Grissom, and motioned to Marc. "Give us a hand, willya?"  
Reluctantly, the young man peeled himself off the wall. Skirting the couch area, he began to help unpack the food.  
"Okay, guys. Straight from Bamboo Garden. Got chicken here - Moo Goo Gai Pan, Orange Chicken, Seseme Chicken, Honey Chicken, an' of course, Spring Rolls. Order up!"  
Pulling out a package of paper plates from his backpack, Jason loaded the first plate and passed it over to Speed. The next two went to Marc with a silent nod toward Greg, and the shy young man moved across the room to deliver a plate to the Las Vegas CSI.  
Greg took the food reflexively, not really thinking as he ate a few bites, eyes still on Grissom.  
Sara almost jumped out of her skin when Jason said softly from next to her. "Here." He passed the plate to her hand. He wagged a finger, saying, "You eat, then try'n get the Doc to eat. Okay?"  
The dark-haired CSI didn't let go of her husband's hand. Though the logical part of her mind told her there was little she could do, her heart felt that if she kept a hold on him, she could keep him grounded to life. Alive. Free of pain. Sara thought painfully, _I need you back, Gil. There has to be a way...somehow..._  
Reluctantly, Sara took a bite of the plate the young man slid onto the low table.  
The food was good, but both Las Vegas CSIs were almost struggling to choke down their portions, heedless of the flavor.  
Speed was taking his time eating, eyes showing his disquiet. When Jason came back to fix a new plate, the former CSI commented, "I'm worried about H." He met the blonde man's gaze. "We can't lose him...I mean..." Uncharacteristically, he looked away.  
Jason just nodded, then said in a low voice, "Ya know, I barely know the guy, but even I'm concerned." At Speed's look, the other man shrugged. "Not many genuinely good men left, bro. Yeah, I don't know him - but he's the type of guy I'd like to."

Eric logged out of the system, rubbing his face. "I think we outta talk to Andozza again." he said, turning to face his friends, including Walter, who had joined them moments before.  
Ryan was reading over the financial report, but commented, "Well, I'm not sure this will get us much past the door."  
"But it might rattle the tree." Eric's eyes were narrowed.  
"Carson's house didn't have fingerprints, but indications of leather gloves. One was larger than the other, but that doesn't tell us a lot." Natalia shook her head, hesitated, then asked, "Any news...?" It was almost tenative.  
Eric and Ryan looked at one another, then Ryan said, "He's alive - but still missing."  
"What?" Natalia's expression was confused. "Have you seen him? Is he okay?"  
_Damn, what do I say? We were with him when some guy from Interpol - claiming to be his father - disappeared into thin air with him, Calleigh, and Alexx?_ Eric felt a surge of frustration. _They'd lock us up!_  
He was opening his mouth to speak when Paula, the receptionist, entered with an envelope in one hand. "Excuse me...a courier came to the desk and left this." She held it out.  
"Thank you." Puzzled, Eric took it, looked at the label. It was simply marked "CSIs", nothing else. "Looks like it's to all of us."  
Ryan looked up, and both Natalia and Walter's expression was one of mixed curiousity and puzzlement as Paula politely exited, heading back to her post.  
Shrugging to himself, the young Cuban tore open the top and pulled out a sheet of paper.  
"This is your final warning." he read, aloud, for everyone's benefit. "Proximity to the Beast is guilt. Cease your investigation, or face the consequences." He turned the paper over in his hands. "No signature, no marks."  
"That sure sounds like a threat." Walter said, scowling.  
"The Beast?" Ryan was thoughtful. "Sounds like a religious reference."  
"Yeah. But who do they think of as the Beast? H?" Eric snorted at the idea.  
"Crazy to us, might make some kind of sense to them." Natalia pointed out.  
"Andozza is beginning to look awfully good for this." Ryan was scowling.  
"Yeah. Natalia, you and Walter look into the financial angle, and check this for prints." He passed the letter to Walter. "We're gonna go interview Andozza again." Eric said, rising. "C'mon, Ryan."

Horatio backed away from the moving dead, unable to escape their accusations, their chilling anger.  
He couldn't deny the truth in their words.  
It _was_ his fault.  
"I'm sorry." The words were sincere, his heart aching with the overwhelming sense of loss. Of pain. Of guilt.  
Pain tore through his heart, through his very being, as he whispered, "I'm so sorry."  
His back thumped against the wall.  
There was nowhere left to go.  
Grotesquely bone-pointed hands skimmed his skin, tearing bloody lines, ripping mercilessly into him.  
His family.  
He had failed his _family_...  
They were right. He had failed them.  
How could he ever even dare to ask forgiveness? Much less deserve it?  
Penance. It would never be paid. Never be enough. Ever.  
The pain surpassed the concept of agony.  
His heart tore to shreds, every nerve screamed in protest, his skin blazed with pain.  
Still, their eyes accused as their voices whispered mercilessly.  
_Your fault...your fault..._

Sara didn't want to cause her husband any more pain. But after Jason brought her a plate for him, she reluctantly reached up and gently, lightly, squeezed his shoulder. Inwardly she winced at the thinness, the fragility.  
Gil's eyelids fluttered, then opened. He managed a smile for her, which made her eyes fill with tears.  
"Sara..." he murmured, hand gently squeezing her's. "Please...don't cry." His dark blue eyes met his wife's, filled with concern, warmth - and love.  
_Oh, Gil...please, please don't leave me. Please don't die._ Her thoughts were so anguished they were almost incoherent, but she managed to say aloud, "You need to eat something. We...we have Chinese..." Her voice cracked.  
"I'm not..."  
"Please. For me?" Sara felt a tremor go up and down her spine. Nonetheless, she loaded the plastic fork with honey chicken and held it to his mouth. "Just a little." Her voice was coaxing.  
Gil blinked, but obligingly opened his mouth, accepting the food.  
Greg finished his plate, eyes on Grissom and Sara, watching as the man struggled to swallow. As she coaxed him into taking small bites. Unknowingly he echoed Sara's thought, silently pleading, _Please don't die, Grissom. Please._

Eric stared up at The Cathedral of Saint Mary, then turned to Ryan. "I still can't believe a priest could be involved in this." he said, in a low tone. "But Andozza _is_ involved in this. I can feel it."  
"I know." Ryan turned to regard his friend. "Kidnapping, attempted murder - this guy is dirty. I don't care if on the he _is_ a priest."  
"Yeah." Eric's eyes were angry, angry at whatever part Andozza played in Horatio's injuries. Anger at his betrayal of his vows as a priest. Just - anger. He took a deep breath, realizing that he couldn't let his emotions lead him.  
"You okay?" asked Ryan, his green eyes not just sympathetic, but empathic. It was clear from his expression that he was fighting down the same emotions as his friend.  
"I'll be better once we talk to Andozza."  
"I'm with you."

Calleigh felt her heart ache each time Horatio moved, expression taut, gestures sharp and tortured. "How long is this going to last?"  
she demanded, turning to the raven-haired man in front of her. Her green eyes were flashing with deep distress.  
Ian closed his eyes, then opened them. "Moments. Hours. Days." His voice was a whisper, voice full of his own agony. "_Deascabhála_ takes its own course for those of us with the gift of _draíochta_."  
"_Days_?! This is killing him!" Alexx exploded. "His body can't take much more, Ian! He could _die_!"  
Emerald eyes turned from one woman, to another, then closed. Ian had to pause a moment, heart aching too deeply for speech. After a moment, he opened his eyes, speaking softly but sincerely. "I fear for him as much as you do." His eyes opened, emotion giving them tear-touched shine. "If it becomes too much, if he should lose himself - I will not let him suffer..."  
"What are you saying?" demanded Calleigh, suddenly chilled.  
"If this tears him apart, I will not force him to live in that Hell." His voice did not break, but there was a note of fear that both women could tell was rare. _Horatio - please, hold on. Do not merely survive. Live! Break the odds, my son. It is not only the family you know that needs you._  
"There must be something we can do!" Calleigh's voice was sharp, as she fought down tears. _He won't die...he_ won't _die!_  
"_Má riamh tá tú os comhair, guí anois_." Ian's tone showed his own desire to do something, as well as a sense of tortured helplessness.  
"What?" Calleigh blinked at the lilting timbre, laced with sorrow.  
"Forgive me. I sometimes tend to revert to my native tongue..." He took a deep breath, then translated, "If ever you have before, pray now."

Natalia and Walter had returned to the Trace Lab, and were now poring over the public records of the Cathedral.  
Luckily, the offical stance of the Bishop was concerned and helpful, thus their access to the recent donation records. In fact, Bishop's exact words were, "I will pray for Lieutenant Caine's safe return. May God be with you."  
"How much donated on your list?" asked Walter, looking up from his own sheaf of papers.  
"So far, Andozza's name is on the memo line of more than a hundred donations." The woman sighed, rubbing her eyes absently.  
"I've got ninety-eight so far on mine."  
A light tap on the door was followed by the entrance of Vance Mayer, one of the techs. Without preamble, he announced, "A man in the Atrium is asking to see you. Neil Thorpe." He then turned on his heel and started out the door.  
Natalia's eyes filled with concern as she stood up.  
"I'll be right back." _Poor man_, she was thinking as she nodded to the retreating back of the tech and hurried toward the Atrium.

"You once more bring your crime investigation into this holy place." Andozza faced them once again, eyes regarding them down his nose. His stance was one of a man who believed himself completely in control, and his belief in his utter moral superiority.  
Ten seconds after meeting with the priest, and he was already being irritating as possible.  
"Crimes are being committed, Father Andozza." Eric said, refusing to allow himself to rise to the bait. "And they link back here."  
Andozza lifted his chin slightly, speaking as if to a young, and rather slow, child. "I have committed no crime." he dismissed the CSIs with a flick of his hand.  
"We have enough evidence to warrant an investigation." Ryan said, eyes clearly showing his dislike. "Would you rather have the interview here or at the station?"  
Andozza's dark green eyes smouldered with disgust as he gritted out, "Ask your questions, then."

Natalia came into the Atrium and immediately saw Neil Thorpe.  
The grieving man stood in the center of the area, shoulders stooped, dark eyes haunted and lost.  
"Mr. Thorpe?" The dark-haired CSI approached the man, feeling a surge of sad sympathy for him. To lose your only child...poor man. she thought, once again.  
"Miss Boa Vista...my wife, she couldn't..." He shuddered. "I need to...to..." Thorpe fumbled in his pocket and held out a piece of paper. "I heard this, just before J-jenny, my Jenny...before..." The tormented man was unable to go on.  
Natalia looked down at the paper, clearly torn from a notepad. _Ego sum junkty malem_. was scrawled across it.  
Thorpe shook his head, as if clearing his head of cobwebs. "I don't know what it means, but I remembered it a few hours ago. That...that monster said that when...it happened. I think he was crying." His face crumpled. "I hope he's still crying. He killed my my daughter...I heard that everything can help find out why he did this..."  
Brow furrowed, Natalia nodded. "This may help. I'm sorry, Mr. Thorpe. And thank you." Her voice was as gentle as she could make it.  
Thorpe nodded, then managed, "I want to take Jenny home with us...?"  
"The Medical Examiner will contact you when they're finished...I'm sure it will be very soon."  
"Thank you." The man was even paler than before. "I need to get back...my wife..." With that he turned and almost fled into the elevator, leaving the CSI holding onto the scrap of paper.

"Where where you twenty-two hours ago?" Eric refused to show any emotion as he spoke.  
"In a meeting." Andozza was calm, but seemed amused by the effort to question him.  
"Can anyone vouch for that?"  
"Do I need anyone to?  
"We need to know where you were, beyond question, twenty-two hours ago." Eric smiled coldly in return, refusing to let the man's attitude provoke him.  
"As I said, in a meeting. A private meeting." Andozza snorted. "I am a servant of God. I answer to Him."  
"I'm sure." Eric's icy tones seemed to provoke the priest somewhat, though the angry flash of the priest's dark eyes was the only indication. "So no-one saw you in this meeting?"  
"My assistant would have seen me enter and leave, I'm sure."  
"Thier name?"  
"Laura Williams." Andozza spat out each syllable like a bullet.  
"We need to speak to her." Eric's expression was sharp.  
Ryan was loath to admit it, but he was rather enjoying seeing Andozza squirm.  
Andozza scowled, then motioned. He walked across the entrance area, down the left hallway, then turned into the fourth door on the left.  
Inside, a young woman was typing away with considerable speed, eyes never leaving the notes affixed to a clip on the right.  
"Laura." Andozza cleared his throat.  
Stopping in mid-stroke, the young woman looked up in surprise. She had fair hair, light blue eyes, an a small, almost pug nose. She was dressed in a short-sleeved white blouse and a neatly-ironed dark green skirt. "Yes, Father?" she said questioningly, blinking at the two men behind him.  
"These men are crime investigators. They wish to know my whereabouts for the last twenty-two hours."  
Laura looked from Eric to Ryan, then back at Andozza. Nodding quickly, she reached across the desk and picked up a spiral-bound notebook. Flipping it open, she ran her fingertip down the page, then read, "Well, yesterday he had a private meeting from 8:00 to 9:00, one from 9:45 to 11:00 with the Financial Committee, a meeting with the Educational Board from noon to 2:00, then a couple of personal visits to parishoners, and he was back as I was leaving at 5:00."  
"And today?" asked Ryan, glancing over at Eric.  
"He was here when I got here at 7:30 this morning." The young woman looked confused. "Father, is everything okay?"  
"Of course." Andozza looked down his nose at Eric. "These gentlemen were just leaving."  
"One more thing." Eric said, voice still cool. "Do you have your clerical clothing tailored?"  
"What does that have to do with anything?" Andozza sounded annoyed.  
"Please answer the question." Ryan replied, eyes narrowed.  
"I do." The priest grated.  
"Thank you. We'll need a sample." Eric stated, refusing to stoop to the priest's level.  
Andozza glowered. "Of my clothing?" He made the idea sound ludicrous.  
"Of your robes." Ryan corrected, smiling innocently.

Calleigh watched Horatio's struggles, as if the very air was a torment. She couldn't forget Ian's words.  
_Caught in his turmoil_. she thought to herself, glancing over as Alexx spoke to the emerald-eyed man."  
"Listen to me - Horatio needs help, more help than I can give." The former ME's voice was somewhere in between stern and desperate. "He's getting weaker, this is killing him!"  
Calleigh didn't listen to any more but the cry of her heart. Dashing around Ian, she ran to Horatio's side, took his hand...  
"Calleigh, _no_...!" Ian's call didn't even slow her down.  
Darkness flashed through her vision, light flashed, and she fell against the wall of a hallway.  
The air groaned under the pressure of something dark and deadly.  
Then the hallway flew past her, pulling her away, dumping her unceremoniously onto a dirt road.  
Lightning cracked, rain hissed like angry snakes around her, soaking through to her skin in seconds.  
_What...where..._? were the blonde's disjointed thoughts.  
"Horatio?" she called. "_Horatio_?"  
Silence filled up the shadows, as she stood up.  
_Where am I?_

IRISH

_Deascabhála._ - Ascension.  
_Draíochta. _ - Magic.  
_"Má riamh tá tú os comhair, guí anois."_ - "If ever you have before, pray now."


	20. Lost in the Rain

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter Twenty: _Lost in the Rain_

"The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain."  
- Dolly Parton

Natalia re-entered the Trace Lab, still feeling echoes of Neil Thorpe's suffering. She looked down at the slip of paper in her hand, moved over, and dropped into her seat.  
"You okay?" Walter asked, dark eyes showing his own disquiet at the witness' anguish.  
"Yeah." The brunette lay the scrawled note on the desk, then rubbed her temples. "I feel terrible for the Thorpes." She stopped, picked up the paper again, and said, "Neil Thorpe gave me this, something he heard Jameson say just before he ran down that poor girl."  
Walter leaned over from where he was standing, reading the note. "That might be Latin." he suggested, after reading the words.  
"That's what I was thinking." Natalia's gaze turned back to the screen. "Let's just assume it is Latin - let's run it through Phoenetics." The system obligingly took the spelling of _Ego sum junkty malem_ and it became_ Ego sum djuncti malum._  
"Translation software says it means "_I have consorted with evil_."  
The tall black man looked puzzled, as Natalia looked over at him.  
"It almost sounds like he was running from something." she said, thoughtfully.  
"Yeah, but from _what_?"  
"We need to figure that out."

Horatio felt the wall beneath his back give, and as a grotesquely sharpened hand sliced into him, he fell backwards.  
He landed on a smooth stone floor, shoulder and back crashing painfully into the far wall.  
Part of him wanted to stay still, to let the dead forms of the people he loved have thier justice.  
Reflex and training had him on his feet, half-stumbling down the hallway.  
The shuffle-hiss of feet on the floor grew distant, then stopped altogether.  
Aching with crushing pain and guilt, torn by his roiling emotions, he started following the left-hand wall.  
Weary to the core, he forced himself to take another step, then another, another...  
The end stayed out of sight, but Horatio kept going, kept moving.  
He continually promised himself that after the next step, he would stop.  
But he didn't.  
He kept going.  
But a part of him kept wishing he _could_ just give up. Wondered why he was running away. Ached with the fact he was denying his family their much-deserved justice.  
But he kept going.

Eric and Ryan were using tweezers to carefully remove tiny bits of loose thread from Anzozza's raiments.  
The irate priest was standing several paces behind them, glaring as if his gaze could burn holes in the CSIs' back.  
"How're you doing?" asked Eric, carefully dropping another small string of fabric into a small envelope.  
"Well, this is my fourth sample." Ryan replied, closing his own envelope carefully.  
The tall Cuban CSI straightened up, then turned to Andozza.  
"Thank you for your co-operation." Eric said, coolly.  
"Looks like we're finished here for now." Ryan added, voice neutral.  
"I'm sure you will find nothing relating to your crimes in this holy place." Andozza was again dismissive.  
_Now that's an interesting choice of words_. Eric thought. _Coincidence - or is he taunting us?_

Gil managed to eat about a third of the dish, before he sharply turned his head.  
Sara put the fork down as her husband spat up blood, turning almost white as he struggled to breathe. She lifted his shoulders, holding him gently, wishing she could take away the pain. She fought down a sob as Gil's body shuddered with muscle spasms.  
Greg tenatively rested a reassuring hand on Gil's heaving back.  
Jason was pulling cloths out of his backpack - most were torn but usable, and he wet three with cold water, gathered the other four in his left hand. Filling a paper cup with ice from the refridgerator's dispenser, he passed it to Speed, then pushed the slightly-larger dry towels in the microwave. The blonde warmed them up for a few seconds, pulled them out, and motioned toward the steadily weakening Gil Grissom.  
The two men joined the pair of CSIs next to the couch, the blonde wordlessly passed the damp towels to dark-haired former CSI, who joined him in a crouch beside Sara. Speed was silent as he passed the cool towels to the woman, who used one to gently wipe Gil's mouth, the other to wipe his face, wincing at the blood. Swallowing hard, she set the two damp cloths on the low table.  
Working with practiced ease, Jason gently tucked a warm towel around Gil's bruised chest, the other on his neck.  
Gil managed to whisper, "Thank you." He included everyone, but his eyes turned to meet Sara's.  
"Hey, Doc." Jason greeted. "I've got access to an experimental painkiller, morsuscadine. It'll help, but I need ya to be still while I give ya a shot of it."  
"Experimental?" Sara turned a haunted gaze on the blonde man.  
"Mosta the side effects're minor - might cause nausea, but not real likely. Pretty strong, safer'n a lot of drugs." Rising easily to his feet, the blonde man went back to his backpack, pulled out a mini-gelpack, retrieved a small vial, a hypodermic, a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a few cottonballs, then returned.  
"This won't..." Greg couldn't continue._ Please don't let this take him faster_. The thought was painful, almost disjointed.  
Jason shook his head absently in answer to Greg's unspoken question. Swabbing Gil's elbow gently with an alcohol-soaked cotton swab, Jason drew a measured amount of the clear liquid into the syringe, then quicky injected it into the crook of the still man's elbow.  
Tucking the medication into a plastic container, Jason put a hand on Sara's shoulder, nodded to Speed, and stood up.  
Speed looked over, meeting Jason's eyes, then looked over at the trio from Las Vegas.  
"Yer a good guy, Jase." he said, voice low.  
Jason grinned. "Yeah, well...don't let it get out."

Ian and Alexx reached Horatio's side at almost the same moment, and the tall, raven-haired man gently eased Calleigh's body down to the floor. Her hands remained clutched around Horatio's left hand.  
"Calleigh? _Calleigh?!_" Alexx knelt down next to the blonde CSI, fingertips on her slow, but steady pulse. She turned her angry gaze on the man next to her. "What just happened?" she demanded.  
Turning to face the angry former ME, Ian's voice was soft and concerned. "Calleigh reached out to him. Horatio did the same for her."  
"And what exactly does that mean?"  
"My son shares a special bond with Calleigh." The dark-haired lifted his gaze to meet the black woman's. "When she touched him, that bond - linked them. It remains a lifeline between them." He blew out a breath.  
"Linked them?" Alexx checked Horatio over, then returned her attention to Calleigh. "Is she in danger? What can we do?"  
"Horatio would sever the link if he felt her in distress." Ian's gaze turned inward. "It would be traumatic on both sides at best, to try and force them apart, catastrophic at worst."  
Ian knelt down next to Alexx, just as Horatio's body went through a violent bout of violent shudders. He murmered softly, almost inaudibly, "...Sorry...I'm sorry..."  
Alexx looked over at her companion, worried.  
The raven-haired man lightly stroked an errant lock of hair off the younger man's forehead, eyes momentarily showing his pain and concern.  
The dark-skinned woman did not miss the tender gesture, and thought to herself,_ Like a father comforting his son. I've seen that look in Richard's eyes whenever Andrea or Brian were sick._ Thought of her husband and children made her thought veer to concern for them, then back to her friends and current patients. From her angle, she studied Ian's face. He wasn't dissembling or faking, his concern and distress were too real. And she knew that look - the man loved Horatio as only a father could.  
Gently, Ian rested a hand on the struggling redhead's shoulder, and to Alexx's suprise, began to sing softly, in a steady, reassuring voice:

_ Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee,_  
_ All through the night_  
_ Guardian angels God will send thee,_  
_ All through the night_  
_ Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,_  
_ Hill and dale in slumber sleeping_  
_ I my loved ones' watch am keeping,_  
_ All through the night._

_ Angels watching, e'er around thee,_  
_ All through the night_  
_ Midnight slumber close surround thee,_  
_ All through the night_  
_ Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,_  
_ Hill and dale in slumber sleeping_  
_ I my loved ones' watch am keeping,_  
_ All through the night..._

Whether from the lullabye or some internal prompting, Horatio's violent tremors eased, leaving him pale and still.  
Alexx regarded Ian's profile, and then looked back at the still form of her friend.  
_What is it that reminds me of Horatio? Something in his face_...

Lightning crashed in irregular beats as rain hissed onto the ground.  
Calleigh shivered as she walked along the muddy road, looking around carefully as she moved.  
Ocassionaly something stirred in the darkness, something that moved too quickly to be focused in on.  
Her shoes slid in the thick slurry, and more than once she had to stagger to keep her balance.  
"Are you lost?" the quiet tones startled her, as she whipped her head to the side, and almost fell.  
A thin, rather small boy, perhaps ten years old, stepped into the dull light.  
Again, lightning crackled, illuminating the youngster as he moved closer. He seemed to consider a moment, then determinedly squared his thin shoulders. "It's getting really bad out here - I know a place out of the storm, if you like."  
Calleigh gave the boy a grateful look, then noticed his eyes, eyes far to solumn for a child.  
And they were a vivid, sapphire blue.  
Framed by wet, bright red hair.  
She clamped down hard on a flash of recognition. _That's impossible_. she thought, a trifle wildly. Instead, she summoned up a smile and greeted, "My name's Calleigh. What's yours?"  
The boy shifted his weight, summoning a tentative smile in return.  
"Most people call me Rat." He cocked his head, as if bracing himself.  
"Well, that's not a very good name for you." Calleigh felt a flash of indignation for the boy. "I'm sure your real name is much nicer."  
"Thank you." The boy's voice was soft. He considered, then said quietly, "My name's Horatio."

LATIN

_Ego sum djuncti malum._ - I have consorted with evil.


	21. Moon On a Winding Road

LOST SON OF AVALON

-  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you, everyone, for your kind words and encouragement. I hope you all continue to enjoy this, the next chapter is already in progress! Please let me know if you enjoy this, I have to feed my muse. I think I need a leash fo her - she keeps running off on me! :) Have a great day, you guys are fantastic!

Thanks,  
Shadewynde

Chapter Twenty-One: _Moon on a Winding Road_

"Not all who wander are lost." - J. R. R. Tolkien

Back at the Lab, Eric was lining up two threads, both black, under the microscope for a comparison.  
"It's a good thing you spotted that scrap from the Hummer." Ryan said, by way of encouragement.  
The tall Cuban ran a hand over his eyes, meeting Ryan's gaze. He nodded, grateful for his friend's support. "I hope this leads us somewhere. My money's still on Andozza." He made a careful adjustment to the instrument he was working with and frowned.  
Eric had a huge older book open, full of dye components and their manufacturers. Every few seconds he lifted his head, scanned down the page, then returned to his examination. After tapping the page once in confirmation, he snapped the book closed.  
Looking up from cautiously clipping the white samples to uniform lengths, Ryan asked, "Got something?"  
"This dye is unique to Italian tailors. I'm gonna run it." Eric rose, eyes intent, and headed out the door.

Horatio made his way slowly down the hallway, blood dripping from many aching cuts.  
Inside and out.  
He didn't know where he was going, didn't know what was waiting on the other end of the long, long hallway.  
A question roiled in his mind, one that was difficult to consider.  
Pausing, he closed his eyes and forced himself to face it squarely.  
_ Have I gone mad?_  
Something deep within him answered. _No. Not insane._  
His mind flashed along the painful edge of the rest of the thought, almost sinister in it's warning.  
_That would be too easy._

Natalia shuffled through the stack of papers in front of her, then sighed. "That's two-hundred ninety-eight so far, and I've got about twenty more sheets to go through." She looked over at Walter. "How're you doing?"  
"Three-hundred thirteen." The tall black man shook his head. "What are these donations _for_?"  
"They look like simple donations to the Catholic Church." She flipped the page, then frowned. "This one is a little different." Holding out the paper, she said, "Take a look at that."  
"Andozza - Purgatory." Walter read off the memo line. "Purgatory?"  
"Strange." Natalia was thoughtful. "How is Purgatory related to The Cathedral of Saint Mary?"  
Walter leaned forward and typed _Purgatory_ into the Search field, the watched as a list of possible references appeared on the screen.  
Natalia scooted over next to him. "Anything stand out?" she asked.  
"One thing, here - kind of odd." Walter called up the link. "The Holy Order of Purgatory."  
"This reads almost like a cult - listen to this, "The Forces of Darkness pollute the world with thier vile presence, they are all around us. Join us in out battle against evil. Join in their utter destruction, in the name of the Lord."  
"Let's find out where they are and pay a visit."

Horatio - and Calliegh was still trying to wrap her mind around the idea of the little boy being Horatio - led her down a series of muddy, diverging paths, several times helping her regain her balance when one of her feet slipped.  
_What's going on?_ she thought, confused and more than a little alarmed. _Where am I? Why...how...is Horatio..._ Calleigh stopped the train of confused thoughts. A memory danced across her mind, one of Horatio's rare, miraculous smiles. Her mind veered to that occasion. Her 30th birthday. February 28, 2003. Horatio's present had been simple but one she still had, still used, still treasured: her holster. She remembered her delight at the hand-crafted item, and the warm hug they had shared. "_Happy Birthday, Calleigh_." His velvet tones had been soft, warm. Then he had gifted her with one of his rare, full, heart-stopping, soul-touching smiles. By some interaction of inner and outer selves, he could soothe and uplift a spirit with that expression. Those rare, vibrant expressions - and in the last six years, they seemed to have faded, lessening the world greatly with their loss - Calleigh's whirling thoughts brought one thing into focus: she_ missed_ that smile. She wanted it_ back_. She wanted her Horatio _back_. Safe. Whole. _Healed_. She paused, thinking, _I don't know what's happening, but I'm here, Horatio. And I'm not going anywhere._  
Distracted, her right foot slipped out from under her, and her young companion was hard-pressed to keep her upright.  
Once she was steadied, she smiled at the boy, who regarded her solumnly. His tentative smile in return was almost shy.  
When lightning crashed again, she saw the wooden building, pressed back against a large oak tree, tucked among other trees. If not for her young guide, it would have been easy to miss.  
Thunder boomed, seeming to shake the small structure.  
The boy held open the rickety door. "You should be safe here." he said, following her in.  
Inside were a few blankets, a three crates, a battered pillow, an old lantern, a thermos and a plate with two sandwiches.  
"I'm sorry I don't have much to offer you," Horatio said looking concerned. He picked up the plate and offered it to her.  
Calliegh's first thought was to refuse, but she felt her stomach growl, took one and took a bite._ Peanut butter and grape jelly_, she identified immediately.  
Horatio unscrewed the top of the thermos and poured a drink, passing it wordlessly to his guest.  
Unobtrusively, she looked the child over. When he slid out of the battered raincoat, she could see the patched grey shirt, the equally-tattered blue jeans, and muddy tennis shoes. He found a blanket, straightened, and offered it to her, sapphire eyes concerned, solemn - and achingly sad. He looked so lonely for a moment she felt tears sting her eyes, fought down the urge to hug the boy tightly. She swallowed once, hard, aware of his alert, compassionate gaze.  
Taking the thin cloth, she smiled gratefully at the boy. Gently, she commented, "It's awfully late for a boy your age to be out in the rain." Calleigh couldn't help the concern she felt. Taking the thermos-cup from her companion, she took a few sips of the grape Kool-Aid, then passed it back to him.  
"I don't sleep that much." Horatio took the cup, setting it next to it's parent container. Then he set about lighting the lantern, not quite meeting her eyes.  
Calleigh checked one of the crates with one hand, then lowered herself down to seated position. Feeling the immediate relief pass through her aching feet, the blonde sighed, one hand massaging her sore foot. "Your parents must be worried." she half-asked.  
He shook his head. "My mother will be asleep by now. And my brother should be." Concern etched his tone.  
Hesitating a moment, she asked, "What about your father?"  
Horatio's expression was unreadable. "He probably fell asleep hours ago. I'll go back before dawn, for chores."  
"That's very early." Calleigh was, again, concerned.  
An instant of something deeply hidden flicked across the young face. Instead, he shrugged, clearly not wanting to discuss it further. He met Calleigh's gaze as she patted herself dry with the blanket, squeezing the moisture out of her blonde hair.  
Looking over at the little boy, she felt a surge of disorientation and asked, "Could you tell me where I am? The date?"  
Horatio looked puzzled. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned. His intelligent blue eyes studied her. "Are you lost?"  
"Kind of." Calleigh evaded.  
"Well, it's October 10th. Candor, New York."  
"Candor?"  
The boy nodded, eyes still concerned.  
Hesitating a moment, Calleigh asked, "This is going to sound strange, Horatio, but could you tell me the year?"  
The child looked at her a moment, expression concerned and puzzled, then replied, "1970."

"Well, except for that blurb, nothing but an e-mail address." Walter said, frowning.  
"Can we track it?" Natalia was standing next to him, rubbing the back of her neck.  
"I'm gonna run it over to Records. There's a new tech, doubling in on Computers too."  
"Good?"  
"I've heard nothing but good things. H just hired her." Mention of his his friend and boss made him pause a moment, swallow down the worry, then continue, "I think her name's Martinez." Walter took the print-out, glanced it over, then looked back at Natalia. "Be right back." He started out the door.  
"I'll be here." The young woman quipped, returning to her lists.

Eric swung into the Trace Lab, results in hand and worry in his heart.  
The Lab just felt - _wrong_.  
As if it's heart was missing, stopping the steady beat, the warmth.  
_H, where are you?_ He thought, pushing open the door. _Please just hang in there, we'll find you._..  
He stopped a moment, head bowed and eyes closed, leaning on his arm just inside the door. He took a deep breath to steady himself.  
_Hang in there_.  
Horatio often said that, when someone was uncertain, fearful, or hurting. What it meant from Horatio was,_ "I'm here. I care. I have your back."_  
_We need you, H_. I _need you_.  
Forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, Eric stopped at the desk, noted the absence of Valera, and was just turning around when she hurried back in. They almost crashed into one another, then, after a moment of confused attempts, both managed to step around one other.  
"Sorry. You have something" Valera asked, looking at Eric as she headed back behind the desk.  
"Yeah, ink." Eric held up the envelope.  
"Ink?"  
"From Andozza's raiments. The ink looks like it's used mostly in Italy. I need a comparison."  
Taking the envelope, the woman nodded. "I'll rush this." she said, before he could speak.  
Ryan came in a moment later, his own envelope in hand.  
"More ink." Eric said, wryly.  
The other CSI nodded in answer. "White ink. Also from Italy, looks like."  
"I'll rush that too." sighed Valera, aware of the alert focus of the two CSIs.

Horatio made his slow and torturous way down the seemingly-endless corridor,  
Whispers rasped at his back, slashes of sensation skittered over him, pain biting viciously into nerve and bone.  
The whole world seemed to be filtered down into blasts of agonizing pain.  
Memories of being shot, of being in murky, burning water - more than worth it, since Natalia was safe - but he would have been relieved to exchange that pain for this one.  
Pausing a moment to let the whirling, dizzy overload of sensation settle, he rested the back of his head against the wall. _What's happening?_ The thought flickered through his mind. _What's wrong with me? Where am I?_  
The still hallway revealed nothing, the silence revealed no information other than it's presence.  
He forced himself upright, started following the wall again.  
A faint flicker appeared far down the corridor.  
_An exit...?_ The distant light, barely the size of a candle, beckoned.  
Warily, painfully, he headed toward it.

Grissom opened his eyes again, watching Sara steadily, sadly.  
This is what he had hoped to avoid. He had hoped she wouldn't have to see him die like this.  
He hated feeling helpless, weak - _old_.  
Sara deserved so much better.  
"Gil?" Sara saw the flicker of pain and sadness flash through her husband's dark blue eyes. She stroked his hand with the tips of her fingertips, never breaking contact.  
"I didn't want you...to see this." Gil's voice was soft. "I'm sorry."  
"Gil, I swore "_In sickness and in health_" too. I meant it then. I mean it now." Despite the tears, Sara's eyes were fierce. "You didn't have to...have to..."  
"I'm sorry, Sara..."  
"Hush. We both made some mistakes...that's in the past." Her expression was determined. "Now we just need to get you well."  
"Sara, I..." A blessed numbness was spreading through his body, then less numb, only painless. A few sharp twinges, but mostly, the pain was gone.  
"I'm here, Gil, and I'm not going anywhere."  
"Thank you." Gil's eyes were filled with warmth, and the faint shine of tears.  
Greg watched the exchange, whispering silently, _We're with you, Grissom. We're here._ He paused, swallowing, then thought,_ I need to call Nick, have him tell the Lab_... He closed his eyes, tears slipping past his shielding lashes.  
Speed leaned against the front of the bar and regarded Jason steadily. "I still don't like this." he grumbled. "H is still in danger, this poor guy could..."  
"Yeah." Jason hopped up on a barstool, settled with one foot on the bottom ring of the stool, left arm on the bar. "My job right now is ta keep the Doc alive, which kinda puts my main job on hold. Don't like it, but we knew this was comin', bro. We joined up with our eyes open." He considered, eyes sympathetic. "You want out?"  
"_No!_" Speed was adamant. "I just wish there was more we could do." He glanced over at Gil, then back at his friend. "For H and Grissom."  
Jason nodded in perfect understanding. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. Not seein', no access...I hate it too." His voice was low. "We knew we'd be running in the dark about now, so for now, we hold down the fort and keep off the radar." He shrugged, then grinned. "Whattaya say, about time to call in the Miami branch?"  
Speed blew out a breath. "We need all the help we can get." He paused. "Ya know, it's weird, but I've been working for Ian almost eight years - longer than I worked for H. But..."  
"Still loyal ta Horatio. Right?"  
"Hell yeah."  
"You keep that bond ya got, Speed. Don't _ever_ think me or Ian wanna try an' take his place." Jason looked up, met Speed's eyes, and grinned a lopsided grin.  
"I know, Jase." For a moment, the laconic man's eyes softened. "And Jase?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Thanks."  
"That's what I'm here for, bro. That's what I'm here for."

Valera patiently tested each tiny strand, not lifting her hand. "You were right." The tech didn't look up. "This is definitely Italian dye. It's got all the markers of a specialty job. Could be hand-blended."  
"What about the white thread?" asked Ryan. Both he and Eric were leaning slightly forward, hanging on Valera's words.  
_They look like cats ready to pounce_. Valera thought, momentarily amused, before looking over the eyepieces of her microscope. "Same tailor, I'd say the same location."  
Ryan straightened, glancing toward his friend next to him.  
"Run that through the database, will you? Let's see if we can match it to a specific tailor."

Walter headed in the door of the Computer Lab, and paused, looking around.  
Everything was neat and orderly, though several books were stacked binding-up on boxes against the wall.  
He turned slightly to the left, and a youngish woman came out from behind one of the panels. She was petite, with shoulder-length brunette hair, a dusky complexion, and deep hazel eyes. The woman moved forward, with a pronounced limp.  
The CSI noticed the leg brace encasing her left leg.  
"Can I help you, sir?" Her voice was shy and soft, as she shifted her notebook to her left arm and flushed a little at her visitor's startled expression.  
"Uhm...sorry." Walter was embarrassed now. "Are you the new tech?" He wracked his brain desperately for her full name.  
Kindly, the woman came to his rescue. "My name's Cailida Martinez, Mr. Simmons."  
"Walter." he replied, smiling at the shy newcomer. "I need you to run a search for me."  
Seating herself in front of the main computer screen, she called up the search engine, and looked up questioningly.  
"The Holy Order of Purgatory. I've got the IP address, I need the physical one."  
Fingers flying over the keys, Cailida soon had several addresses up on the screen.  
"They have several, si...Walter." she corrected herself, when Walter smiled reassuringly at her. "The main office is 7950 Northwest 53rd Street. The others are all mailboxes." The tech passed the CSI the printout that was almost instantly spat out.  
"Thanks, Cailida!" The tall black man headed for the door. "I'll see you, okay."  
The woman nodded, then returned to her work.

Eric watched the visual comparison of the fibers they had loaded flashed by on the Trace Lab's computer screen.  
Ryan's gaze was also on the screen, and when it uttered a _ping_ and flashed "MATCH" up on the screen.  
"Made by Gammarelli." Eric read aloud, and tapped the search command in. "Search says they're part of the Via dei Cestari, in Rome. Looks like they're the Armani of the clerical world - tailored would have run Andozza in the thousands. And a unique dye signiture." The Cuban CSI looked up, a triumphant look in his eyes. "We can prove Andozza was in the parking lot, in his clerical shirt, next to the driver's side door, when he brushed against the Hummer."  
Ryan grinned in response. "We got him." he commented, as both men stood up, almost in unison.  
"Let's go get him." Eric started out the door, and Ryan was a moment after his friend.


	22. Against the Fire

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter Twenty-Two:_ Against the Fire_

"Keep your fears to yourself, but share your courage with others."  
― Robert Louis Stevenson

Eric had the Lab's phone between chin and shoulder, and was listening to a litany of First Amendment rights, separation of Church and State, and general bureaucratic double-talk spouted by a particularly oily Assistant District Attorney named Robinson. The whole spiel had his teeth clenched and muscles tensed.  
Ryan felt the same irritated tension, but leaned against the desk and listened.  
Finally, the faintly sneering voice on the other end said, "I heard about Lieutenant Caine. But the law isn't about him. It's about the nation's needs to stay harmonious. Good day." With that, the ADA abruptly hung up.  
Outraged, the CSI followed suit, muttering a few choice comments.  
"We need somebody to play politics." Ryan observed, his green eyes flashing with irritation.  
Eric's nod was followed by picking up the phone again and pulling out the sheet of paper with Commissioner Klien's number. "There's more than one way to skin a rat." His dark eyes flashed.  
"Commissioner Kline." the deep voice on the end was clearly the man the CSI was hoping to speak to.  
"Yes, sir - this is CSI Eric Delko..."  
"I remember." The voice was kind and concerned. "Any news?"  
"We have a suspect, sir, but the ADA won't even look at the case." Eric explained. "We need an arrest warrant." Concisely, he explained.  
There was a pause. "Give me half an hour." Klien said. "I'll get you that warrant."

Natalia and Walter arrived at 7950 Northwest 53rd Street a little after 4:30 in the afternoon. The building was pleasant and clean, and a busy receptionist was working on a wireless keyboard near the entrance. She looked up as the CSIs approached, and an automatic, business-like smile instantly appeared on her face. "May I help you?" she asked, smoothly.  
"I'm Natalia Boa Vista and this is Walter Simmons, Miami Crime Lab. We're looking for the office of The Holy Order of Purgatory."  
"Oh." The woman looked up, directly at the two. "They're on the third floor, number sixteen." She reached in her desk, pulled out two "Visitor" Passes, and passed them over the desk to the pair.  
"They insist on those." the receptionist explained, returning to her typing.  
With a glance at each other, both visitors clipped on the badges, and headed to the elevator.

With the ink barely dry on the arrest warrant, Eric was maneuvering through traffic at high speed. They were not running with lights or sirens, for fear of spooking a possibly-armed Andozza, and they were keeping to the speed limit. Barely. A patrol car carrying two police officers was right behind them. Ryan leaned hard against the seat, braced against the vagaries of gravity.  
"Andozza's probably at the church, but we may have to wait him out."  
"Yeah." Eric turned into the parking lot, found a space large enough for the Hummer, and opened his door. Moments later, he and Ryan were met by the officers. Almost in unison, the group started toward the entrance. "We need to make sure no-one's in danger. Let's head to his office."  
"Right behind you." Ryan answered, keeping pace with his friend.  
Climbing the steps briskly, the four men followed their earlier track to Andozza's office.  
His secretary, Laura Williams, was working on her computer, reading from her notebook. She looked up as they entered, a startled expression crossing her features. "Ah...hello." Her voice was polite, and a little nervous. "Can I help you?"  
"We're looking for Father Andozza." Eric said, though giving thier suspect a priestly affiliation left a bad taste in his mouth.  
"He's not here right now, would you like to make an appointment?"  
"When did he leave?" asked Ryan.  
"He left about two hours ago, to meet with one of our shut-ins." The woman looked from one CSI to the other, clearly bewildered.  
"When should he be back?" Eric asked, eyes steady.  
"Not more than thirty minutes. Father Andozza is very punctual."  
"So he has another appointment?" The dark-skinned CSI was alert, steady.  
"Yes, in twenty minutes."  
Eric and Ryan exchanged a look.  
"We'll wait." Eric said, firmly.

Gil looked over at Sara, watching her closely. Despite himself, the sudden lack of pain and the deep exhaustion had him drifting on the edge of consciousness. He willed his eyes to stay open, to focus on his wife.  
_I'm sorry, Sara_. he thought, feeling a surge of guilt, pain, and helplessness.  
He didn't want to leave her. Trying to push her away had been the most painful - and difficult - thing he had ever done.  
And, quite possibly, the most stupid.  
Gil's sense of confusion was rare for him.  
Normally, he tried to approach things from a rational, logical position.  
Except loving Sara. Logic on that had simply not mattered to him at all.  
Now - dying.  
He supposed that was logical. Tissues decayed, blood thickened - life ended.  
But that didn't ease the pain of leaving Sara, and the fear of his own imminent demise.  
"Gil?" Sara's free hand came up to smooth his hair. After a moment's hesitation, she asked, "How are you feeling?"  
"Tired." He paused, then whispered, "Sara, I'm afraid if I close my eyes, I won't see you again."  
"You're not going to die." Sara's voice was somewhere between positive and desperate.  
Dark blue eyes met her own dark brown ones. "I don't want to, but...it's happening, Sara. I don't want to hurt you. I never did. My time may be running out," he hesitated, almost shy, almost tentative, as he finished, "but my love for you isn't."  
Sara whispered, "Me, either." She knew Gil, and he was normally a very reasonable, and not publicly demonstrative, man. His loving comment was, therefore, doubly touching. Sara's touch was gentle as she squeezed his hand, then leaned over to gently kiss him. "Sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up."  
Gil gave a soft sigh. He felt a warm reassurance, quelling his fears. Despite his best efforts, his eyes flickered shut, as his weariness overcame him in one swoop.  
Sara's grip didn't lessen. No matter the rational truths, she refused to let go.  
Greg looked up at the two men at the kitchen bar, reaching in his pocket for his cell phone.  
"Whoa, fella." Jason slid down from his seat and trotted over to the Las Vegas CSI. Reaching in his pocket, the blonde man pulled out a small device, slipped Greg's phone out of his hand, plugged the new device into the cell, and passed it back. "Your Lab, right?"  
"Yeah." Greg's gaze lifted to meet the other man's, then he flicked the device open and dialed.  
"Stokes." Nick's voice answered on the third ring.  
"It's me...Nick, it's Grissom...he...we..."  
"Grissom? Greg, what are you talking about?"  
"He's got stage four bone cancer." Just saying it made Greg's throat close up, and there was a long pause on the other end.  
"Grissom's...he's in Miami? God, cancer? I gotta call Catherine...we gotta..."  
"We're okay for now, Nick." Greg blinked hard, struggling to control his emotions. "Sara's with him."  
"What hospital?" Nick's voice was urgent. Despite his pain at Grissom leaving, the older man was still a second father to him. He couldn't - and wouldn't - let his former Supervisor go without being there.  
Jason regarded Greg with a level gaze, and the brown-haired CSI continued, "Grissom won't go to a hospital, we're both here with him. I think he's asleep."  
"Dammit." Nick swore inventively. "Well, I'll call Cath and we'll come down there..."  
Speed looked at Jason, who gave a slight groan. Looking up at the ceiling, he whispered to Greg, "Call him back in thirty minutes, okay?"  
Greg looked puzzled, but obligingly said, "Nick, I'll call you back with more info, okay? Give me half an hour."  
"Greg, tell him...tell him we're coming, okay?"  
"Yeah."  
The moment Greg closed his phone, Jason flicked his open and dialed.  
He tapped his fingers on the back of the couch, waiting for the connection to come live.

Alexx jumped when Ian's cell phone rang. She was so focused on her examination of Horatio and Calleigh that the tiny noise was jarring. She still was worried and puzzled about the redhead's condition, and Calleigh's abrupt collapse only enhanced her concern. Before she could speak, Ian withdrew the phone from his pocket and flipped it open.  
"I'm listening."  
"It's me. We gotta snag." Jason's light baritone was unmistakable.  
"Explain."  
"Two of our downed's friend's buddies are all but enroute."  
"To your location?" Ian's emerald eyes flashed.  
"Oh, you know me better than that." There was a pause. "I was thinkin' of leadin' them in. Otherwise, they'll probably be on the phone with the local Merry Men inside of thirty seconds."  
Ian closed his eyes a moment, considering the danger, then nodded to himself. "Be careful." he said, quietly.  
"I'm goin' invisible. I'll keep ya on speed dial." After a moment, he asked, "How's your patient?"  
"He's - struggling."  
"Yeah." Jason blew out a breath. "I'll update the pair in the field."  
"As you might say, "Watch your back"."  
"And front, and sides..." Jason's chuckle floated through the phone.

Natalia was first off the elevator, frowning. "It's too quiet." she said, in low tones.  
Walter was looking around, but nodded. "Yeah. Something's not right." he replied.  
The pair walked warily down the hallway, followed the sign on the wall to the right, and stopped in front of suite sixteen. "The Holy Order of Purgatory" was on the office door. There were no other markings. It looked for all the world like a simple business office.  
Looking once at her companion, she saw the nod, and opened the door.  
Inside, at least twenty people were moving around or typing industriously on computers.  
One of the people on their feet was a tall, broad-shouldered man with rumpled, messy clothes. He glared at Walter, then Natalia, and grabbed another man by the arm, hissing something in his ear.  
The man immediately pulled out a gun and waved it at the CSIs, drawing back the safety as he aimed.  
Natalia and Walter dove down in front of a desk, putting the furniture between them and the shooter as people screamed, ran, and ducked behind desks.  
"Miami-Dade Police, drop the gun!" yelled Walter, as he drew his own. Natalia had her own weapon out, nodded once.  
The man almost screamed, "You will not contaminate us! God will protect his true servants!" He fired off a series of shots, effectively pinning both of the crouching newcomers, who both realized almost simultaneously that firing into the panicked mass could bring a nasty death count very quickly.  
Walter looked to the side, and saw the side of a man in clerical clothing as he slipped out the door in the back, the rumpled man right behind him.  
Just as he moved to rise, he noticed a gun pointed at the back of Natalia's head and froze.  
Standing behind them, 9mm pistol drawn, was the receptionist from downstairs, a curious, half-crazed smile on her face.  
"The Lord warned me about those like you. Ever since I was a child, I knew. I _knew_."  
"Drop the gun." Walter summoned his most commanding voice.  
"Shut up!" shrieked the woman, eyes wild, as she cracked Natalia hard across the back of the head hard with the rear of the gun.  
Blackness exploded on the edge of Natalia's vision as she fell forward, catching herself with her left arm. With her right, she managed to to pull out her own gun, holding it across her stomach.  
The receptionist yelled, "Kill them! They are a blight before the Lord!"  
The man waving the gun fired another few shots, getting a bead on Walter.  
The black CSI stared down the smoking barrel, and a whirlwind of thoughts blasted through his mind. Would it hurt? Would it be quick? Would he be buried with honors? Would Horatio be all right? Would he see Jesse again?  
After what seemed hours, Walter fired his own weapon, blowing the man off his feet. The would-be killer crashed to the ground, howling in pain from his shoulder wound, and Natalia managed to twist around, bringing up her own gun to fire off one shot.  
The former receptionist hit the ground, holding her stomach, screeching, "Kill them, before they warn their vile masters! _Kill them!_ Strike a blow for God!"  
Panting from the stress, Walter yanked out his cell phone. "This is CSI Simmons - we need backup and a bus at 7950 Northwest 53rd Street, Suite 316! Shots fired!" he yelled, after the dispatcher came online.  
"Nat! Natalia!" He looked over the top of the desks, saw no-one moving, and took a chance by crawling over to her. "You okay, BV?"  
Blood was oozing from her forehead, but her eyes seemed steady, if shocked. "I'm okay, just a headache. You?" she got out.  
"I'm okay." Walter helped her sit up. "Backup's on the way."  
"Any more shooters?"  
"Nobody I saw."  
"Let's check."  
Natalia and Walter slowly rose, guns out, eyes scanning the group.  
"Is anyone hurt?" Natalia called, eyes alert and head pounding.  
The stunned and frightened people were all - besides the wounded two - huddled under desks or behind them. No-one moved or spoke.

Horatio made his way painfully down the hallway, his thoughts disorganized and chaotic.  
Finally, he ached as he thought, _"This is my punishment. I've hurt people, even let them die. I took justice ino my own hands. They're covered with blood. What have I become?"_  
He paused, wavering slightly. It hurt, it always hurt. Every night, when he couldn't bear to regard himself in the mirror. Every day, when he had to draw back to protect his team - his family. Every moment he failed those he loved so horribly that he could barely make it to the next minute. He rested the back of his head against the wall a moment, as the pain washed over him. And the shame.  
Horatio's heart ached as he managed to get back upright, and as he always had, struggled to reach the light.

Alexx looked up at Ian. "He's alive, but barely. His pulse keeps rising and falling, and his body can't take much more strain. And Calleigh's vitals - it's as if she's in some kind of deep REM sleep." She shook her head. "There must be _something_ more you can tell me!"  
The raven-haired man regarded her sadly, then said quietly. "My own _Deascabhála_ is as yesterday, but the physical is a blur. It was...a very long time ago." He met the dark-eyes of the concerned former ME. "The mind governs the body." Ian's voice was thoughtful, almost distant.  
"What?"  
Ian gave a little shake, and met her gaze. "His body - it struggles against the effects of his mind. If he should lose his grip on sanity, I will end his physical life to save his soul." A flash of sheer torment flickered in his emerald eyes at the very thought.  
The dark-skinned woman scowled. "You say you love him, but you're saying you're willing to _kill_ him?" she demanded, her own eyes flashing. There was _no_ way she was going to let _anyone_ hurt Horatio Caine!  
"I love him more than words can express, Doctor." Ian met her gaze. "The life of his essential being, his self, is a huge part of what I seek. Please believe me, I want him to live." He gestured toward the restless Horatio and the quiet Calleigh. "I am praying that love - all our love, in all it's different forms - will be a bulwark to shield him from this."

"Miss Williams, we need you to leave this area." Eric said, looking around once. "Is anyone else here?"  
Puzzled, the woman shook her head. "No...no, most of us go to lunch about now. What is this? Why are you after Father Andozza?" she peered at both men, expression baffled. "Is he all right?"  
"Please, just do as we ask, ma'am." Ryan backed up his friend as the woman regarded him. Reluctantly, she nodded, picking up her handbag and stepping outside the door.  
Moments later, Eric and Ryan were standing slightly back from the doorway, on the left and right, an officer next to each of them.  
Eric looked up at the clock, and nodded sharply.  
Moments later, the doorknob turned, all four tensed, and Father Peter Andozza stepped in the door.  
"Miami-Dade Police, hands where we can see them!" Eric snapped out.  
Andozza stared at the two CSIs as the officers advanced, one lowered the priest's arms, fastening handcuffs on their prisoner as the other stood guard, gun out.  
Eric looked over at Ryan, and they both sheathed their weapons.  
"Sir," one of the officers said, as they pulled back his jacket.  
Eric snapped on a pair of gloves, and retrieved the 9mm from Andozza's waistband. "Care to explain this?" the young Cuban asked, eyes sharp and alert.  
"I have the proper documentation..." Andozza began.  
Ryan slapped the arrest warrant against the priest's chest. "Peter Andozza, you're under arrest for kidnapping, conspiracy to commit murder, and attempted murder." he said, voice satisfied.  
"This is an outrage! I have committed no crime!" Andozza snapped.  
Eric growled, "We'll see about that."

Calleigh had switched to her other, equally painful foot, as Horatio looked up, an indecipherable look crossing his young features.  
"I need to go. If I'm back after dawn..." He stopped, turned to fully regard her. "Will you be all right? Do you have friends that will be looking for you?" His head gave a slight tilt to the side, and the blonde woman had to smother a fond smile. That little quirk was so..._Horatio_.  
"I don't know." She had decided to be honest with the boy. "I think I'll look around."  
"Town is that way." Horatio said, pausing at the door and pointing to the northeast. He seemed to consider, then continued, "I'll be back in a few hours - I'll bring something for you to eat better than peanut butter and jelly."  
Calleigh flushed, remembering her hesitation to accept the sandwich, but his expression was understanding.  
"I'll bring back something more palatable."  
Palatable? Did this ten-year-old just use the word palatable? Calleigh considered a moment, then commented gently, "You have quite a vocabulary." She put as much encouragement as she could into her voice.  
Horatio looked uncertain a moment, then said quietly, "I like to read." Changing the subject quickly, "I'll...see you later."  
"I'll be here." Calleigh smiled as the boy gave her a tentative, if genuine, smile in return, then slipped out soundlessly.  
Waiting a few minutes after the child had left, the blonde woman rose, discarding her high heels, and stepped out.  
The dawn light was muted by thick, overcast clouds that promised a powerful storm.  
And it was bitingly cold, making her grateful for the thin blanket.  
Shivering, she started northeast, thinking.  
_Where am I? Is this weird hallucination? A dream? The last thing I remember - wait. "Share his turmoil". Ian said that. I remember thinking that. What's happening? I like the young version of him, but I need to figure out where I am, where my Horatio is. I'm not sure I can swallow time travel - but what if I'm in the past? Will I be stuck here, waiting for 2013 rolls around again? This is driving me crazy!_  
She walked, lost in thought, until she came to a street sign._ Owego Street_. she thought, memorizing the location. Following the street for fifteen minutes or so, she soon came to what was clearly a small business. Trembling a little from the temperature, she pushed open the door, stepping into the warm building.  
A small, elderly woman hurried toward her. "Gracious, you're freezing!" she exclaimed, taking Calleigh's arm gently and guiding her inside. "We have some warm clothes on sale, nothing too fancy, but warm."  
"I think that would be wonderful." Calleigh managed a smile, wrapping the small blanket tighter around her torso.  
She didn't miss the flicker of disapproval as the woman glanced at her clothing, and was about to respond with some heat, but reminded herself of the date. October 10th, 1970. _I haven't even been born yet_. she thought, aware of the bizarre nature of the thought.  
"My name's Ellen, if you need anything. Feel free to look around, dear." She then bustled off, intent on tidying the area.  
Calleigh looked around, curiously. The little store mostly had clothes, but a few toys, an old-style television, and a small shelf of books rounded out the inventory. She finally selected a thick grey coat, a pair of dark blue slacks, and a white blouse, and located a pair of light grey, low-heeled shoes. Piling them into her arms, Calleigh looked around for a dressing room, glancing over at the books.  
Ellen bustled back in her direction, sweeping neatly, and smiled at her curiosity. "The only person that looks over our books is the older Caine boy, Horatio. Always willing to help, and sharp as a tack! He comes in at least twice a week to help me move around the displays." She smiled warmly, clearly fond of the youngster she described. "He's good boy, always helping out. My! I am going on. Do you want to try those on?"  
Smiling at the other woman, the displaced CSI nodded, her irritation fading at Ellen's enthusiastic fondness for Horatio.  
"We have a room over there." The woman's light green eyes were kind, but it was clear Calleigh's clothing disturbed her. She indicated a small area over to the far right of the store.  
"Thank you." Calleigh replied, politely. Ellen nodded, and the blonde hurried over to the small dressing room. Entering, she closed the dark-shaded curtains, and peeled her damp and muddy clothes off. Shivering slightly, she pulled on the new clothes and sighed softly in relief as her trembling eased thanks to the warmth.  
She looked over at the mirror, and thought determinedly,_ I'll find you, Horatio. I won't give up - even if it takes another thirty or so years, I'll find you._

IRISH

_Deascabhála - _Ascension


	23. Convergance

-  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, everyone! Thank you for reading, and I hope you're still enjoying this tale. I'm still updating my past chapters, but nothing really tremendous has changed. I'm working on the next chapter, I hope you'll read and enjoy! Please review, my muse needs to be fed. :)

Thanks,  
Shadewynde

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter Twenty-Three: _Convergance_

"A good friend is a connection to life - a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world."  
― Lois Wyse

After what felt like days, Horatio reached the flickering light that marked the end of the corridor.  
Reflections danced and twisted on the walls, as if in mockery of his passing.  
The medical-cold of the corridor changed to the biting cold of an icy environs.  
Lightning cracked overhead as he climbed down a sloping hill, and rain began to first trickle down, then thunder down in torrents.  
His body announced it's displeasure at the cold by sending a shuddering series of tremors blasting through him.  
Once down the slippery hill, his feet hit a thick patch of mud.  
Cat-quick reflexes snapped into effect, saving him from a fall.  
Following the path on careful feet, Horatio made his way toward a line of trees.

Eric felt a mix of satisfaction and anger as an indiginantly protesting Andozza was loaded into the back of the squad car.  
"We need to make sure that this sticks." commented Ryan, watching as the priest was unceremoniusly hauled off.  
"We've got the evidence, we..." Eric heard the almost-forgotten new cellphone in his pocket ring, pulled it out, and flipped it open. "Yeah?" His voice was wary.  
"This is yer friend in hiding." Jason's familiar tones answered. "Callin' to report in. Our sick friend is hangin' in there. So're the ladies. You guys okay?"  
"Uhhm, yeah. We got Andozza." Eric was on full alert now, focused on the knowledge that Horatio, Calleigh, and Alex were still alive.  
"Good. Even if he weren't guilty, that snake deserves to have his head chopped off."  
"You've met him?"  
"If I had met that slime in person, he wouldn't still be breathin'."  
"But you know about him?"  
"Yeah. He killed a friend." Jason's voice crackled, just for a moment.  
"Wait, killed? Do you have anything we could use?"  
A pause. "In court? If I had that, I'd've used it."  
Eric scowled, suddenly aware that Ryan had moved closer, to listen in.  
Jason's tone was encouraging. "Just keep the faith. Okay?"  
"We're not giving up."  
"Good. I'll be in touch. Gotta run, meetin' friends, makin' calls. Ciao."  
"Well, that was informative." Eric commented, sarcastically.  
Ryan answered with a frustrated shake of his head. "We're _still_ in the dark about H. I hate this."  
"Me, too." Eric scowled. "Well, we have Andozza. That's a start."

Jason flipped his cellphone closed, and turned to Speed. "You up fer babysitting for a bit again?" he asked, grinning.  
Speed regarded him with sardonic humor. "Do I have a choice?"  
The blonde man chuckled. "Always gotta choice."  
In reply, the darker man snorted, as his friend turned to Greg. "Your friends can get here in fourty-five to an hour, right?"  
"Yeah. Maybe faster. Catherine's work gives her access to a jet."  
"Oh, yeah - the Spook-De-Loop." Jason grinned at Greg's expression. "Don't worry, I can handle spookage." He cocked an eyebrow, then said, to everyone in the room, "I'm gonna go meet them at the airport, Greg, you tell 'em I'll met 'em there, okay?" When the brown-haired CSI nodded, he headed out the back door.  
As he passed Marc, he nodded once, and the other man flushed and looked down in answer.

Nick stared at the phone in his hand, thoughts coming in stuccato bursts. _Grissom. Cancer. Miami._  
Taking a deep breath, he reset the phone and dialed Catherine's number.  
A moment later, a familiar voice answered, "Willows."  
"Cath, it's me. It's...it's Grissom."  
"Nick?" The was the sound of paper resping along a solid surface. "What's wrong? What happened? Is Grissom okay?"  
"Greg said he has stage four bone cancer." It came out in a rush, the words too painful to hold on his tounge.  
There was a stunned silence. "Grissom?" Her voice was a disbeliving whisper. Then, "Where is he?"  
"Miami. Greg and Sara went out there already..."  
"Meet me at the airport." Catherine's voice was determined. "I'll talk to Russell. With the jet, we should be there in under an hour."  
"I'm on my way."  
The moment he hung up, the phone rang again.  
"Stokes."  
"Nick, someone's going to meet you at the airport and bring you here." Greg's voice sounded stressed and distracted.  
"Who?"  
"His name's Jason."

Calleigh paid for the clothing - a tiny amount, compared to what clothing would cost back home - and thanked Ellen.  
"You're welcome, dear." The older woman smiled at her. "The rain has slacked off a little, but I can tell you, it's going to come down twice as hard in an hour or so. Are you sure you'll be all right out there alone?"  
For a moment, the blonde's temper flared - she hated any questioning of her independance - but she pushed it down and managed a smile. "I'm meeting a friend."  
"Oh. Well, have a good day, dear." Ellen went back to sweeping, bustling back toward the rear of the store.  
Stepping back outside, Calleigh was grateful for the coat. It was so cold, her lungs ached from the simple act of breathing.  
She looked around, and abruptly decided to head back to the little shack.  
Exaustion made her eyelids heavy and triggered a huge yawn, but she started back toward Owego Street.  
And the younger version of Horatio.

On the way in, Eric had made a phone call, most of which Ryan didn't pick up. His voice remained quiet and respectful.  
"Kline?"  
"No, but I think this call will help us." Eric was distracted more than purpously mysterious.  
Minutes later, they were walking into Interrogation.  
"I will say nothing." Andozza was saying, as he was pushed down into s seat by an escorting officer.  
Eric and Ryan exchanged a glance.  
"We recovered evidence that places you at the scene of a CSI's kidnapping. And proves there were others involved. That's enough to put you away for twenty-five years."  
"And assaulting a police officer will add another twenty." Ryan added.  
Andozza's glare was furious, but he almost snarled, "I don't need to speak on this! The highest court in the land would happily absolve me, once they knew the facts!"  
"What "facts"?" asked Eric.  
"That is between us and God!"  
"Us?"  
Andozza looked furious, his eyes regarded the two CSIs with deadly venom.  
Fighting down anger, but determined to find out more, Eric's voice was steady. "Who else is involved in this?"

Natalia winced as the EMT ran careful hands over the area on her head she'd been hit.  
Police officers were swarming the building, and the people formerlly in the office were being led out, escorted by armed officers and being questioned by more senior personnel.  
Walter was clearly worried about his friend, and kept glancing at the EMT bandaging her head.  
"If you start to feel dizzy or nauseated, call us immediately, Miss Boa Vista." The EMT, an almost scrawby man with tousled blonde hair, was saying.  
In the background, both heard their original shooter and the receptionist alternately howling in pain or yelling about, "blasphemers, traitors, and the forces of evil".  
"You okay, BV?" Walter asked, anxiously. He glanced over at the man that had tended her injury, then back to his fellow CSI.  
"My head is a little sore, but I think I'm all right." She looked up at him, dark eyes concerned. "You okay?"  
"Yeah." Relieved, he summoned up a grin. "I'm driving, though."  
Natalia grinned back at him, then frowned. "What do you think that was all about?"  
"I don't know, but let me guess - hospital, then Lab?"  
The EMT smiled and hurried over to help his collegues deal with the ranting, injured pair.  
"I'm not looking forward to questioning those two, but they definately know something."  
Walter offered her a hand, and she gratefully took it. Once she was on her feet, she said determinedly, "We need to know more."

The moment they disembarked from the FBI Lear jet that had brought them from McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, they were hit with the heat and humidity characteric of Miami.  
"Somehow I didn't think of weather." Nick admitted, as they fell in step.  
"To be honest, neither did I. The last time I was here, it wasn't this bad." Catherine replied.  
They passed into the cool of Terminal in silence, each lost in their own concerned thoughts.  
"CSI Nick Stokes and Special Agent Catherine Willows." The low tones came from behind a support column.  
As both turned, a third figure fell in step behind them, matching their pace.  
"Welcome to Miami. Keep walkin' forward, don't stop." The newcomer's voice was soft, but firm. "I'm Jason."  
"Greg mentioned you." Nick said, as the three made their way down the concourse.  
"I'm gettin' downright popular." Jason chuckled. "Well, let's hit the monorail." He paused, but didn't slow down. Aware of both CSIs expressions, he said, "The Doc is still alive."  
"How bad is he?" asked Catherine, eyes showing her concern, and wariness.  
"It ain't good." Jason admitted. "I'll take ya to him - but I want yer word, no cellphones, no runnin' off, hell, not even a whistle. Kinda hazardous. So, you in?"  
The Las Vegas pair looked at one another, startled, then back at the blonde.  
"We need to report in."  
"Do it on the train, or I gotta disappear. The Doc was kidnapped, and I don't intend on letting them get him back."  
"All right, I'm in." said Nick, giving the newcomer a searching look.  
"Me, too. But this better not be some sort of trick." His companion's expression was fierce.

Horatio made his way slowly down the path, his whole body - and even more painfully - his heart, aching.  
He ducked his head to see through the pouring rain, moving resolutely forward.  
His thoughts were as troubled as the weather.  
The redhead was unable to get his normally ordered, reasonable mind to cooperate.  
Emotions of guilt, confusion, and pain tore through him in waves.  
He stopped abruptly, forcing himself to face his torment.  
_I love Marisol, part of me - no, I can't let myself. No. I can't._  
Why did the vaugest sense of terror rise in him, along with an aching pain, and...? And. Every time he thought of Calleigh, he felt a glow that wanted to grow, to ignite.  
They had talked, he and Marisol, about the condition of his heart.  
He couldn't - and would't - ever lie to her.  
She had only smiled gently, took his hand, and told him how much she loved him.  
No condemnation, no jeleousy, no anger. She had known he was loyal to her, held a deep and honest love for her.  
When she died, he had grieved intensely.  
Then, he had watched the relationship between Calleigh and Eric blossom, and he had prayed for their happiness.  
What caused his heart to clench in fear was the fact that he wasn't grieving as he had. He didn't feel numb and empty anymore. Oh, he had always loved his team, his family, but the hole in him had stayed sore and open for a long time.  
He couldn't let himself...because it would put her in danger.  
Because he owed Marisol better.  
But his thoughts turned often to his blonde ballistics expert.  
_You can let me go. You deserve to be happy._ The whisper of a memory, like the gossamer wings of a butterfly, danced through his mind.  
A dream?  
No. Too _real_, those moments when he was...dead.  
In pain, confused, but determined, Horatio kept moving down the treacherous, roiling path.  
An analogy to much of the tortured man's life.  
The wetness on his face was from the fierce, unrelenting rain.  
Wasn't it?

Natalia and Walter were waiting patiently while doctors worked to save the two would-be shooters.  
"You know, those two were ranting like maniacs." Walter said, more or less just to fill in the silence.  
The dark-haired woman nodded, wincing as the small movement jarred her sore head. "She kept yelling for the other shooter to kill us, as if we had...I don't know...offended them, somehow."  
"I think she was talking to all of them. I mean, the other guy was already shooting."  
"Good point."  
"Are you the CSIs?" A slim, dark-skinned doctor approached them. His nametag read "Dr. Alonzo Lopez".  
Walter rose from the chair, and Natalia stood at the same time.  
At their confirming nods, Lopez looked down at his clipboard. "Both of them are in serious condition, but Miss Thomas is conscious and able to talk. The bullet missed everything vital, we retrieved it without compromising any internal organs - it wasn't too severe, but she's in some discomfort."  
"Can you give us their names?" asked Natalia, politely.  
"Cheryl Thomas and Brent Thompson."  
"Thanks, Doctor Lopez."  
The slim man nodded and added, "Mr. Thompson's injuries were severe, but we think we saved the arm. He's in ICU, sedated and under guard. Miss Thomas is in room 519." He indicated the hall to the left. "She's quite...unhappy. Good luck to you." He hurried off.  
The two CSIs exchanged a look, then started down the hallway.

The monorail and cab ride was largely made in silence, but the two newcomers were tense with concern for their friend, and Jason was silently vigilant.  
Two blocks short of Horatio's condo, Jason stopped the cab, passed the driver his pay and a tip, and slid out.  
Aware of the two following him, he commented only, "Follow me - and guys...keep close."  
The short distance took little time to cover, and Jason paused across the street from their target.  
"Nice place." commented Catherine, glancing over at the building.  
He glanced up, saw the quick signal from a figure on the roof, and a faint flicker of a smile danced over his lips.  
"Not my place, but I'm sure the owner'd thank ya."  
Catherine and Nick regarded the man sharply, but Jason didn't react.  
Looking about alertly but unobtrusively, the blonde man made his way up the steps to the front door. Nodding to his two companions, he opened the door, ushered them in, and was inside with them in seconds.  
Greg looked up as his friends entered, and moved over to meet his friends. "He's asleep." he murmured, eyes haunted.  
Catherine looked over at her unconscious friend, noticed his fragility, the paleness of his skin, and drew in a sharp breath. "Grissom?" she whispered, voice shocked and horrified.  
"Oh my God." Nick's voice was equally stunned.  
"It's cancer." The voice came from Sara, now sitting on the floor next to the couch, holding her husband's hand. She looked up, eyes bright with unshed tears. "He's so tired."  
The three others moved over nearer their still friend, the two newcomers trying to absorb the shock, the other two showing their worry and distress.  
Jason nodded to Marc, who nodded tentatively and stayed still.  
Speed looked over at his friend. "How'd it go?" he asked, keeping his voice low.  
"Our two friends are up top, keeping an eye out." Jason hopped back onto the barstool, one foot on the bottom ring, other leg swinging slightly. "Eric and Ryan are okay, they got Andozza."  
"That's one less headache." The dark-haired man growled, eyes flashing.  
"Let's hope they crack him."  
"Think they will?"  
Jason's grin was wolfish. "Well, we know he's not as smart as he thinks he is."

Ian stood silent, emerald gaze full of deep turmoil.  
He wanted nothing more than to gather his tormented son into his arms and shield him from the pain.  
The tall, raven-haired man closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest.  
_ I should have been there for you, Horatio. I should have protected you. I should have prepared you for this._  
"His vitals are going back up, and her's are too low for comfort." Alexx said, gently opening one of Calleigh's eyes and watching the positive reaction of the pupil and iris.  
Ian lifted his head and regarded the concerned doctor quietly. "His _Deascabhála_ is progressing, but it is impossible to say how long it will continue." He closed his eyes again, focusing on the tendrils of painful awareness radiating from the unconscious redhead.  
He felt turmoil, pain - confusion.  
Gently, he tried to send comfort and encouragement back, felt the deep withdrawal.  
"I sense his pain, but he is too deeply withdrawn for me to reach."  
Alexx stood up and walked over to the raven-haired man, holding his gaze. She found no sign of dishonesty, only a deep concern that radiated from him in almost palpable waves. She felt a jab of sympathy, suddenly. Quietly, she said, "You _are_ Horatio's father, aren't you?"  
"I am." Ian's gaze was steady, open, honest - and deeply troubled.  
The beautiful black woman had learned long ago to trust her instincts. They very rarely led her wrong.  
Gently, she said, "Horatio's a fighter. He'll come through this."  
"I believe in him." said Ian, softly. "And I fear for him."

Calleigh was dozing, huddled down in her coat and several of the blankets she had found. Even with all of them covering her body, she was still shivering.  
The small shack blocked the rain, but the wind blew softly through the small spaces between the boards.  
She jerked awake when she felt another, thicker blanket wrap around her, and the blonde sat up quickly.  
Horatio moved back fast, avoiding a collision, and her eyes immediately focused in on the dark bruise that had swollen shut his left eye. His clothes were rumpled, and he moved stiffly, as if in pain.  
"Oh my God - Horatio, are you all right? What happened?"  
"I'm fine." The boy's words were so like her Horatio's that Calleigh shook her head.  
Her eyes swept over the bruises, and was clear they were from an adult hand - she thought she could see a palm-mark.  
And she was_ infuriated._  
_Who could do this to a ten-year-old child?_ she fumed, ushering the boy to the other crate and sitting him down.  
"Who did this?" she asked, using the edge of her sleeve to wipe the trail of blood from his split lower lip.  
"It doesn't matter." Horatio avoided looking at her. "I was careless."  
"That doesn't matter. No reason is good enough for an adult to hit a child!"  
Sapphire-blue eyes focused on her, as if puzzled, then looked down. "Thank you." he said, softly.  
Calleigh paused in wiping the battered face, looking up at him. "For what?"  
"For caring."

Eric leaned forward, eyes on Andozza, who looked smugly self-assured now.  
Ryan glanced over at him, watching as his fellow CSI nodded to the officer, who opened the door.  
A tall, white-haired man with an athletic build entered. He wore simple clerical clothing, but carried himself with calm dignity and authority.  
Eric and Andozza rose, the older man looking startled, and a moment later, Ryan was also on his feet.  
"Please, sit - not you, Father Andozza." The kind voice was suddenly sharp, and Andozza stood up in mid-seat, nearly falling.  
Ryan looked at Eric, puzzled, as they sat back down.  
"Bishop Acardi, welcome to CSI." said Eric, voice polite and respectful.  
"Thank you. These allegations, I have investigated on my end, and they are indeed grave."  
"Your Excellency..." began Andozza, the first cracks of nervousness appearing in his superior attitude.  
"You will tell them all you know." Acardi's voice was stern.  
Andozza looked away. "I...cannot. I will not."  
Eric and Ryan watched in silence, as Acardi blue eyes became hard - with a touch of sadness. "You would betray your oath?" he demanded.  
"No - I..."  
"Peter Andozza, you have committed dire crimes, both against the Church and the State. You leave me no choice. You are stipped of your clerical status and excommunicated from the Roman Catholic Church until such time as you repent. May God have mercy on your soul." The older man crossed himself and turned to the two CSIs.  
Andozza's mouth actually fell open, and his widened in disbelief at the words.  
"Thank you for coming, sir." Eric's expression was neutral as he regarded the Bishop of Miami with respect.  
"I believe, in our different ways, we serve God's wishes, Eric." The blue eyes were kind and compassionate. "May God bless you and your companions in their quest for truth." He gave a kind look to Ryan, then added, "Your Lieutenant Caine remains in my prayers as well..."  
"No!" Andozza shouted, eyes blazing, as he took a step forward. "He is a creature of sin, who corrupts all he touches!"  
Ryan leapt over to pin Andozza's arms behind his back, keeping the older man from jumping at Eric.  
Acardi nodded to the two CSIs, then turned and left quietly.  
The uniform came over at Eric's motion and took Andozza into custody, marching him toward holding.  
Turning, the brown-haired CSI commented, "That was some phone call."  
"We needed the help. Maybe it'll rattle Andozza."

Natalia gave a perfunctory knock on the door of room 519, and she and Walter stepped inside.  
"You!" Cheryl Thomas sat up even straighter in her bed, supressing a cry as her wound was jarred.  
Natalia and Walter exchanged a glance, then the brunette CSI said calmly, "We need to ask you a few questions."  
Cheryl spat, "I will not speak to servants of evil!"  
"What makes you think we are?" asked Walter.  
"You associate willingly with evil!" The former receptionist's eyes flashed with disgust and hate.  
"What evil do we consort with?" Natalia's voice was determinedly reasonable.  
The bed-bound woman looked at both of them, then seemed to reach a decision. "Your leader is a servant of evil. You must turn away from him, before he drags you into the Pit!"  
"Who do you think is our leader?"  
"Horatio Caine. He is corrupted, evil."  
Natalia had to struggle to keep herself from laughing at the sheer absurdity of the words. A glance out of the corner of her eye told her Walter had similar feelings.  
The idea of thier friend and leader being anywhere near remotely dishonest, much less evil, was so blatently impossible that is was threaded with a kind of dark humor.  
"Why do you believe that?" Natalia asked, voice steady.  
"The Evil One is searching for him."  
"Maybe this "Evil One" is after him."  
The woman looked shocked, then her eyes narrowed. "You are testing my faith! I will not speak!" She crossed her arms and sat back, suddenly resembling a petulant child.  
Natalia could tell the other woman had closed down, and nodded to Walter.  
Once outside, she turned to her friend. "This case is somehow related to Horatio."  
"Yeah, but this "evil one" stuff is talking about someone else."  
"Let's check back in with Eric and Ryan."

Horatio kept walking, even after the slack in the rain was replaced with another torrental storm, thunder booming and lightning flashing violently through the air.  
A tree was hit by a bolt of lightning feet from him, snapping in two with the sharp smell of ozone.  
The cold became much harder to ignore, passing through Horatio's jacket as if it wasn't there.  
Following the path past the crackling tree, the redhead moved down a slight incline, and an image floated through his mind. Comforting, just the image, just the thought.  
_Calleigh._  
He walked further, turned at the bend, and stopped at the sign.  
Welcome to Candor.  
_Oh no...it can't be._ Horatio felt the faintest tinge of horror, which he forced control over. He shook his head hard, forced himself to move forward._ I've come back to Hell._

IRISH

_Deascabhála _ - Ascension


	24. Forge of Nightmares

Hi, everyone! First off, I sincerely apologize for the long interval between my last two posts - severe technical problemsrequired that I completely reformat my drive and set all my software back up. I'm going to work hard to post once a week. Thank you for all your support, please review - it helps a lot.

Thanks! :),

Shadewynde

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter Twenty-Four: _The Forge of Nightmares_

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars."  
― Kahlil Gibran

Horatio stared a moment at the sign, aware of the inner ache that rose in him.  
_Candor_.  
The very name roused memories that he'd prefer to forget.  
Rain poured down, the flashes outlining the sign as if in sinister intent.  
The only options were to turn back, back to that - morgue - where the bodies of those he loved had cut into him...  
Or forward, into the place he had spent his life trying to forget.  
What if it were still happening?  
What if she was still alive?  
Resolutely, he moved forward.

Jason watched the Las Vegas group gathered around their still, unconscious friend. He could see distress and worry in their every movement, and turned back to his backpack.  
"The morsuscadine'll be wearing off soon." The blonde said, glancing once back at Speed.  
With a brief nod, Speed took the towels his friend passed him, wet them with cool water, and wrung them out. He put two more in the microwave, warming them to soothing temperatures. Then, he headed to the couch, couching down to gently remove the now-dry cloths and started to gently press the warm towels onto Gil's chest.  
Sara took the cool towels in her free hand, aware that the dark-haired man had picked up the dry ones on the table.  
As he passed back by, he saw Catherine look at him, expression changing to startled recognition.  
"Speedle, right? Miami CSI?" she asked, aware of Sara gently wiping her husband's face gently with a cool towel.  
"Just Speed." The man glanced back at his friend, now approaching with a hypodermic syringe filled with a measured dose, the bottle of alcohol, and a small package of cotton balls.  
Catherine regarded Jason, expression a mix of pain, concern, and protectiveness. "What is that?" she asked, eyes turning back to the couch, still shaken by the idea of her dear friend stricken by cancer.  
The blonde man returned the woman's gaze steadily. "Morsuscadine. For the pain." he replied, grey-blue eyes unwavering. When Catherine reluctantly stepped out of the way, the younger man crouched down, switching places with Speed.  
Jason turned to Sara, and said quietly, "I think ya should be the one to wake up the Doc. Easier on him, ya know?" He nodded encouragingly. He quickly lay out his implements, as the CSI turned her full gaze back to her husband.  
Reluctant to cause him pain, the dark-haired woman nonetheless gently squeezed her husband's hand, watching as his eyes opened, deep blue depths puzzled, then painfully alert. "Sara..." He caught sight of the controlled horror in familiar faces. "Catherine? Nick? When...?" Pain lashed through his bones, and Gil had to grit his teeth, unable to continue.  
"We're here...we came as soon as Greg called." Catherine swallowed hard as she saw her friend's deteriorating condition. "You should have told us..." Tears blinded her a moment, and she blinked hard to control them.  
"You didn't have to go through this alone." Nick's dark eyes carried a similar, painful shine.  
Gil looked at all of them, saying softly, "I couldn't. I'm sorry."  
Jason spoke up, "Doc, I need to give ya another shot. This one's a stronger dose, okay? Let ya stay awake longer without bein' in as much pain. Just be still." Picking up a cotton ball, he dipped it in alcohol, and swabbed the inside of Gil's elbow. With practiced movements, he quickly slid the needle under the skin. Injecting the medication quickly, he withdrew the needle with enough deftness that the former CSI barely felt the pinch. He used his first two fingers to carefully check the pulse in Gil's throat, then he pulled a small bag out of his back pocket, dropped the cotton balls and syringe into it, and rolled the small package up. Rising, he headed back to his backpack, slid the items in, and hopped back up on the stool.  
Speed had taken the other, and they sat silently a moment.  
"Ya were right about her remembering you." observed Jason, voice pitched low to avoid disturbing their companions.  
"Yeah, we met once, like I said."  
"That case with the traveling psycho rapist. I remember." The blonde man absently drummed his fingers against the counter. "Well, aside from it getting a bit crowded, we're still on track. Two up top, us in here - the fort should be secure."  
"Yeah." Speed's voice was dry. "I'm glad you're on our side."

Calleigh finished wiping Horatio's battered face, suppressing a sense of indignant fury. _If I knew who did this, I'd give them a taste of their own medicine!_ Fuming inside, the blonde woman looked up into the child's sad gaze.  
"Horatio, who did this to you?" She put a hand on either thin shoulder. "I want to help you."  
"I'm fine." The words came out firmly, but his good eye closed as she stared at him. He nodded at the unnoticed plate on the table, avoiding her gaze. "I brought you meatloaf, with mashed potatoes and green beans."  
She studied the boy, concerned, then asked, "Have you eaten?"  
"I'll eat later...I don't eat at the table." The words were matter-of-fact, quiet.  
"What?"  
"It's complicated." evaded the boy, so like his adult counterpart that Calleigh ached for both of them.  
"Horatio, no matter what, I'm your friend. Will you remember that?"  
"I will." His head went into an all-to-familiar tilt. "If you remember that I'm your friend, too."

Eric was relieved that Andozza was out of commission, and had finally gone into the break room for some coffee and a ham sandwich.  
Sitting on the couch, he rubbed his eyes, looking down into the half-emptied cup.  
Another reminder of his missing friend and leader.  
Every morning, without fail, they would come in to find a steaming pot of coffee.  
Though Horatio said nothing, it was another small gesture Eric knew the entire team appreciated.  
He was worried not only for Horatio, but also Calleigh and Alexx.  
Finally, he thought, _How did Ian do that? How did he take them, then vanish into thin air?_  
It didn't make sense.  
A trick? An illusion?  
Something more?  
He simply wasn't sure, and that aroused both concern and curiosity.  
_Who is Ian Caine?_ he wondered, staring into the unresponsive coffee._ What does he want with H? Is he really H's father? And Speed...alive. In H's condo, waiting for something. I know he'd never hurt H...but whatever's happening, he's a part of it._  
Ryan poked his head in the door, interrupting his friend's thoughts.  
"We just got a call-out."  
Eric downed the last of his coffee, grimacing at the taste of the now-cold beverage, and tossed the paper cup and sandwich wrapper into the nearby trashcan.  
"What's this one?" asked the Cuban, following Ryan out.  
"They just found a body near the back of the Aventura Marina II office."  
Eric quickened his pace. "That's H's condo." he said, in a low voice.  
"Yeah." Ryan was equally as concerned. "And this guy had a cross carved into his chest."

Natalia and Walter were just walking into the Lab as Eric and Ryan came hurrying out.  
The dark-haired woman saw them glance back at them, and gave the two the most encouraging smile she could summon.  
A moment later, they passed through the door, and Walter commented, "Looks like they've got another call."  
As they headed down the hallway, they passed a slightly-harried looking, youngish officer.  
Reading his nametag, Natalia asked, "Officer Hall, what was the call-out?"  
"A murder, ma'am, out near some condos." replied the man, looking first at the woman, then over at Walter.  
"When?" Walter's expression was sharp.  
"About five minutes ago, sir."  
"Thank you." Natalia was frowning as the officer politely took his leave. "I guess we wait for the body to arrive, then start this investigation."  
They looked at one another, then headed for the Computer Lab.

Horatio had to stop a moment, pausing under a huge old oak tree.  
His cuts were burning, his gaze dancing with black spots.  
Agony shot through him. The slashes were deeper than he had thought, and still oozing painfully.  
Leaning on one outstretched arm against the tree, his thoughts turned firmly away from Candor, New York, and focused on Miami, Florida._ I have to tell them...I'm sorry. How much they mean to me. How proud I am of them._ His head felt like it was going to explode, his mouth tasted like steel wool, and his thinking was becoming hazy, indistinct.  
His temperature was wavering wildly between freezing cold and burning hot.  
Forcing himself to concentrate, he used his handkerchief to gently touch one of the deep gashes, and his vision nearly blacked over, his muscles tensing and nerves screaming in agony.  
Horatio gritted his teeth, pushing off the tree and somehow back fully upright.  
One image flashed in his mind, providing a moment of soothing calm.  
Calleigh.  
Drawing together all his resolve, Horatio managed to force himself to move forward.

Jason swung back and forth on the barstool, deep in thought.  
His cellphone rang, and took it out of his pocket, flipped open the top, and said, "Talk to me."  
"One, near the office." The voice on the other end was terse, disciplined.  
"Stand by, I'm on my way." He slid off the stool, flipping the device closed.  
Speed snorted, rolling his eyes, "_Again?_"  
"You wanna crawl up there, bro?" Jason's eyebrows lifted.  
"Have fun." Speed replied, expression sardonic.  
"Try not to trash the pad while I'm away." replied the blonde, cheerfully, and catching his backpack in one hand, headed out the back door. He took in his surroundings, though his body language staying loose and apparently uncoordinated.  
Jason went up the ladder as if having trouble moving efficiently.  
Once on the roof, he crouched down, moving to where two figures waited.  
"Whattaya see?" the blonde asked, once he was close enough for his low tones to be easily heard.  
The woman, lightly tanned and slender, with intelligent green-hazel eyes, spoke before her taller companion did. "How's Marc?"  
"You know him, head down and ears open. Adryan, what did ya see?"  
Tall, with a toned, athletic build, black hair, and calm light blue eyes, the man replied, "A kill, right behind the office building. The killer is still on the grounds, hiding."  
Jason reached into his backpack, pulled out his binoculars, and looked in the indicated direction, tracking from the body up, then from side to side. A faint movement, almost undetectable, on the left side of the body, behind some metal drums, might as well have been a blazing torch tossed in his direction.  
"They're trying to lure in Horatio's team, flush us out. Adryan, how long until yer SWAT team misses you?"  
"I took some leave time. Two more days." Adryan replied, crouching down next to Jason.  
"How about you, Ali?"  
"You know me. Strictly freelance reporting these days." The young woman tossed her red-dyed hair.  
Tucking the binoculars back in his backpack, Jason, looked sideways over at the other man. "You stay up here and give me some cover. I'm gonna call our folks in the field and give 'em a heads up."  
Adryan nodded. "_Família e honra, meu amigo_." he murmured, reaching over to adjust his own sniper rifle.  
"_À morte - e além_." replied Jason, starting back down the ladder.

Calleigh had just finished her meal when her young companion rose, picking up the plate.  
"I have to get back to work."  
"Horatio, are you sure? You don't have to go back if someone is hurting you."  
A flicker of deep pain flickered for a moment in those all-too-familiar sapphire depths, as he started out the door.  
"Yes, I do." he replied, softly. "I'll be back soon." With a sad smile, he slipped back out of the small structure.  
The blonde CSI felt tears prickle her eyes. _What's happening to you, Horatio?_ She briefly considered following the boy, but not knowing what - no, _who_ - was hurting the child made her hesitate. Calleigh definitely did not want to place Horatio in an even more dangerous situation.  
She sat there, staring at the door, wondering if there were two Horatios, both in danger.  
_Please be safe - both of you._

Jason positioned himself at the floor-level back corner of the condo, and pulled out his cellphone. Ducking his head, he dialed a number, while staying out of line-of-sight.  
_No sign of the bad guys so far, that means a scout lurkin' just down the way_. He paused, then waited for an answer.  
A few seconds passed, then a familiar voice responded.

"Just a second." Eric answered the secure cellphone, while guiding the Hummer through traffic. He was aware of Ryan turning his head to regard his friend. Wordlessly, he pressed the phone into Ryan's hand, focusing on his driving.  
"Yeah?"  
"Yer drivin' into a trap. Killer's still lurkin' on the grounds." Jason's voice was steady.  
"What?"  
"I've got a visual. Guy's gotta pump-action rifle and a pistol, and he's lookin' at the front gate. The moment you guys step outta yer vehicle, he's gonna open fire."  
"What's your plan?" Ryan asked, cautiously.  
Eric changed lanes, taking a moment to glance at Ryan, then returned his gaze to the road.  
"Head around back, come in, then get out and stay low. We'll take out the target."  
"We?"  
"Yup. Keep low, guys. I'm out." The line went dead.

Alexx checked Horatio's wrist, frowned, then touched his forehead lightly.  
"What the...his temperature is rising. He's burning up!"  
Ian stepped over and gently took his hand in his. For a moment, he carefully considered, then whispered, "Hold on, Horatio. Don't give in. Hold on."  
Horatio stirred, murmuring incomprehensibly, body tense.  
Alexx took her friend's wrist, noted the pulse, and looked worriedly up at Ian.  
Once again, Ian rested a gentle hand on Horatio's forehead, and sang softly to him.

_Oh, my child, you cry so many tears,_  
_ Seems like you've been crying for the world;_  
_ Oh, my child, your world so full of fears,_  
_ Seems like you've been crying for the world._

_ I to bare you, I to raise you,_  
_ Father, give me strength to do it right;_  
_ I to adore you, be a refuge for you,_  
_ Father give me strength to do it right._

_ Hush, my child and lay you down to sleep,_  
_ Seems like you've been crying for the world;_  
_ Hush, my child your tears that burn so deep,_  
_ Seems like you've been crying for the world._

_ I will protect you, guard you and guide you,_  
_ Father give me strength to do it right;_  
_ I will love you, more than I have to,_  
_ Father give me strength to do it right._

_ Oh, my child, I only wish I could,_  
_ Suffer all the trials in your place;_  
_ Oh, my child, you know I truly would,_  
_ Take on all the evils you will face._

_ I will protect you, guard you and guide you,_  
_ Father give me strength to do it right;_  
_ I will love you, more than I have to,_  
_ Father give me strength._

Alexx finished checking Calleigh's vital signs, and commented quietly, "That was beautiful."  
Feeling his son steady under his fingertips, Ian replied softly, "I lack my son's gifts, but I can sing a lullaby to him. If it gives him any comfort, I will feel blessed indeed."

Jason watched his target, pistol in hand, eyes narrowed. _Damn pests swarm like flies_. he thought, a trifle irritable. _Sun's gonna be goin' down, he's gonna go to ground if he gets a chance_.  
The sound of the Hummer let him locate them coming in the back gate, as he screwed a small cylinder onto the end of the barrel.  
A slight movement, a gun barrel being raised.  
Another movement marked Eric and Ryan, moving low to the ground, largely hidden by the opened front doors of their Hummer.  
Kneeling down one knee, Jason fired off one shot, blowing the startled would-be killer of his feet and a noticeable hole in his right hand. With a bellow of pain, the man collapsed to his knees, clutching his injured extremity.  
"Freeze! Miami-Dade Police!" yelled Eric, as he approached, weapon out, Ryan right behind him.  
Silent as a ghost, the blonde man slipped around to the front of the condos, staggered up the front steps, and back inside. Immediately, he straightened up, movements becoming co-ordinated and steady.  
Trotting over to Speed's position, he hopped back up onto his recently-vacated stool, and pulled out the secure cellphone. He grinned, whispering, "Five, four, three, two..."  
The tinny sound of the small device ringing made Speed give a sardonic grin.  
Jason flipped open the phone, saying, "Good Guys USA, this is the Guy speaking."  
"What?" It was clearly Eric's concerned voice that replied.  
"_Relájese, mi amigo. Dejé un regalo que hay. ¿Te das cuenta?_"  
"Yeah. Thanks." Eric sounded more than a little annoyed. "We need to check that body."  
"No worries. If there were any more out there, I'd know. Besides, you got an eye up high."  
"Who?"  
"Buddy of mine. Pretty good shot. Keep safe. _Adios_."

Natalia took a sip of hot coffee, grateful for the breather, but worried about Horatio.  
Walter was eating a bagel, looking concerned and tired.  
"I wonder if this murder is related to the others." he asked, looking over at his companion.  
"At this point, I wouldn't be surprised."

Eric was crouched down at the side of the body, while Ryan watched the yelling, cursing man be loaded into a police cruiser by the same two officers that had helped them with Andozza.  
Frank was heading toward the CSIs from his car, which was parked neatly off to the side.  
"Busy day." he observed, crouching down next to Eric as Ryan watched the officers secure their prisoner.  
"You have no idea." Eric replied, staring at the cross gouged deep in the dead man's chest, noting the duct-tape around the mouth. "I think this was carved into him while he was alive."  
"Ouch." The detective's eyes tracked over the body, then commented, "I heard you guys brought in a priest."  
"Yeah. Peter Andozza." Ryan said, joining them.  
For a moment, all three were silent. Then Eric said, thinking aloud, "All our most recent cases seem to be interrelated - I think Andozza may be involved somehow in all of them."  
Ryan looked over at the Cuban, then back to Frank. "You think he has something to do with H?"  
"I'd bet money on it."

Horatio followed the trails by memory. He was fighting waves of pain, and mounting exhaustion.  
His movement down the unmarked path brought back feeling he had to keep forcing down shadows, ghosts in his memory.  
A shack appeared in his vision, and a chill crept down his spine.  
He stopped a moment, noting the fact that the wood was not decayed as it should be, was not lost to the ravages of time.  
It was the only safety from - then.  
_Safe_. The thought wavered through his pain-wracked, fevered mind as he approached the structure.  
Aware tremors were tearing through his body in alarming waves, he managed to reach out and push open the door.

Calleigh saw the door open and got to her feet - and froze in shock.  
Horatio - her Horatio - almost fell in the door.  
Without thinking, she shot forward and balanced him against her.  
She felt the feverish heat, saw the aching pain in his intense eyes.  
Saw the deep, torn cuts in his shirt, down into the skin.  
"Oh my God. Horatio!" Her voice shook as his gaze turned on her, brow furrowing.  
His voice was almost lost in delirium.  
"...Angel...in Hell...?" Then his body simply collapsed, his eyes closing as if in slow motion.  
Lowering his body gently to the floor, she began to wrap blankets around his shuddering form.  
Gently, she touched his forehead, worried at the fever she felt. Tears formed in her eyes.  
"Oh, Handsome." she whispered.

PORTUGUESE (BRAZILIAN)

_"Família e honra, meu amigo." - _"Family and honor, my friend."  
_"À morte - e além." - _"To death - and beyond."

SPANISH

"_Relájese, mi amigo. Dejé un regalo que hay. ¿Te das cuenta?_" - "Relax, my friend. I left a gift out there. You get it?"


	25. Unlocking Illusions

-  
Hi, everyone! Here's the next chapter, and it has another change from canon. I hope you continue to enjoy! Please forgive my slow posts, I've got a variety of technical problems that are slowing me down :( Anyhow, more on the way, please keep reading and reviewing! :) I want to thank everyone for their support, it really means a lot to me!

Shadewynde

LOST SON OF AVALON

Chapter Twenty-Five:_ Unlocking Illusions_

"A great deal of intelligence can be invested in ignorance when the need for illusion is deep."  
― Saul Bellow, To Jerusalem and Back

"Horatio." Calleigh took his hand, feeling the fever raging through his system. She sat there a moment, holding his hand in her's, feeling the muscle tremors, watching his tense, still face.  
Then she gathered up the shirt she had exchanged for the newer, warmer one she now wore.  
Regarding it critically, she found a few large areas that looked clean, and set about tearing the garment into strips.  
Carefully, she started to wrap the first deep wound, feeling his muscles tighten with the pain.  
"I'm sorry, Handsome." she whispered, aware that pressure on the bloody, oozing cuts must be agonizing. She opted against going slowly, thus causing more extended pain, and wrapped as many of the injured areas as fast as she could.  
He was too pale for her comfort by the time she finished, and breathing so shallow that she worriedly checked the pulse in his neck.  
Then she settled next to him, watching him breathe.  
Unconciously, she reached up to stroke his hair soothingly. It was an intimate gesture, one that was deeply comforting to her. His red hair was soft and silky, and she could swear she could feel a spark crackle over her hand in response to her touch.  
He stirred, then went still again.  
Calleigh could only sit there, taking his hand back in her's, and wait for his eyes to open again.

Eric and Ryan were checking the body, and between them found the victim's wallet, a photograph, and a pack of cigarettes.  
With gloved fingers, Eric unfolded the photograph.  
It was a black-and-white, clear image of the whole team, working a crime scene from a case almost a month ago.  
Rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand, Eric remembered the day clearly.  
It was the day Austin and Patty North had been placed with a loving family in Tallahassee.  
He remembered clearly, her crushed expression, her assertion that the new family, the Jones, could give the children oppertunites she could not. It had hurt her, but she had wished them well and struggled through the day.  
Now, Eric could remember Horatio's compassion, giving them space for him to comfort her.  
The Lieutenant had rested a hand on Calleigh's shoulder, said, "I'm sorry, Calleigh", then given them time to work together, for her to work though the pain.  
Refocusing on the wallet, he read, "Don Williams, and an address out in Coconut Grove. A photo of us with "_Necare_" written on it, cigarettes..."  
"And a a keyring with two keys." added Ryan, holding up the described item. "It was right beside him." He frowned then. "_Necare_?"  
"Sounds like it's Latin." Eric replied, staring at the picture. "My Latin is iffy, but I think it means "kill"."  
Ryan looked at the photo a moment, then wordlessly up at his friend.  
Eric looked over at him, then at Frank. "That means someone is gunning for all of us."  
The big Detective looked at his friends. "This priest guy have something to do with this?"  
"I'm not sure, but the body will tell us more." Eric stood up, considered, then took the cell phone from his pocket, stared at the two letters - "J" and "S" - then hit the speed-dial for the "S". "And I think I may know someone who can give us some more answers."

Speed took his cell phone from his belt by reflex when it rang. Flipping it open, he answered, "Yeah?"  
"We need your help." Eric's voice was clearly disturbed.  
The dark-haired, dark-eyed man blew out a breath. "How?"  
"Someone's after all of us, Speed. We've got Andozza, are any more out there?"  
Closing his eyes, then opening them again. Speed looked over at Jason, who looked up, met his gaze, and nodded encouragement.  
"Yeah. There are."

Eric stared at the phone a moment, shaken. He felt a chill go up his spine at the knowledge they were being...hunted.  
"What about H?"  
The familiar voice on the other end replied, "Up for another face-to-face?"  
"Yeah."  
"Wait five, then come up. I'll try and explain."  
"Thanks, Speed."

Speed flipped closed his cell phone then looked at Jason. "They need to know more." The statement carried an edge of challange.  
Jason rested his chin on this fist, elbow on the bar, and leaned a little forward. "Yeah. They do. You wanna break it or you want me to?"  
"I'll do it." Speed's dry voice was determined. "I'll try and get them to understand."  
"This gonna rock their world, you know." Jason's voice held a flicker of concern.  
"They'll handle it. I know Eric will."  
"I'll back you up."

Gil opened his eyes, saw Sara, and squeezed her hand. Physically, it hurt, but more importantly, it was reassuring. Comforting.  
Stirring a little bit despite the pain, he looked over at Cathrine, Nick, and Greg.  
_It wasn't supposed to happen like this. They weren't supposed to have to see this_... He paused, mind changing gears. _Or...is it just me? I never wanted them to see me...die. Is it just because I'm ashamed, is it my pride?_ Gil's eyes closed for a moment as the turbulant thoughts tumbled through his mind. "I'm sorry, Sara." He opened his eyes again, meeting her distressed, worried gaze. "I didn't want you to see me like...this."  
Sara's hand tightened a moment on his, then she said, "I understand. You don't have to be ashamed. I love you." She jerked her head toward the other three members of thier Las Vegas family. "They love you. We're not going to let you die."  
"You're not going to get away from us that easy." Catherine said, from her place in a chair, trying for humor. Her expression was determined.  
"Yeah. We're not going anywhere." Nick's voice was fierce. He was still standing, muscles tense.  
"None of us are." Greg's voice was low and determined.

Eric, Ryan, and Frank were gathered around the body while Loman conducted an on-site examination.  
"Well, you were correct about this being _ante mortem_." He paused and looked up. "Blood was still flowing at the time the incisions were made."  
"How long has he been here?" asked Eric, watching as the doctor prepared to remove the corpse.  
"No more than two hours." Loman stood up, watching as his assistants loaded the body into the waiting ambulance.  
Frank frowned. "Right about the time of the call-out." he commented.  
"Yeah." Ryan looked over at Eric, then both turned to Frank.  
"You look like you've got something on your minds." observed the big Texan.  
"We have to meet someone." Eric replied, voice quiet.  
"Contact?"  
"Something like that."

Calleigh watched Horatio's erratic movements, and for the third time in the last half-hour, checked his pulse.  
It was thready and a little unsteady, and she was worried about the painful slowness of his breathing.  
Abuptly, words emerged, velvet and smoke mixed with a harsh note of pain. "Sorry...I'm sorry..."  
Her heart broke at the anguish in his tone, the crushing torment.  
"Oh, Handsome." she whispered, again running her hand gently through his hair. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."  
"My fault...my fault..." His words were so full of a lost, aching pain that the woman next to him felt tears in her eyes.  
He moved restlessly, facial muscles tightening.  
Determinedly, Calleigh held onto his hand, murmering, "Horatio...I'm here." She let her fingertips trace his hand, murmering reassurance. "I'm not leaving. I'm right here."  
His distressed movements seemed to slow, calm, under her touch.

After a few moments in which Eric and Ryan agreed to meet Frank back at the Lab, they watched the parking lot clear, leaving only their Hummer sitting where it had been parked.  
"I'm ready for some answers." commented Ryan.  
"Yeah. Speed'll help us." Eric's tone was certain.  
"Eric...what if he's changed?" Ryan hating playing the Devil's advocate in this, but they knew so _little_...  
"I know Tim Speedle. I don't care _what_ is going on, I still trust him."  
Ryan just nodded, still cautious, but something told him that this Speed was still on their side.

Ian lightly touched Horatio's forehead, his own methods telling him his son was currently too cold, his lungs were aching, his muscles burned with pain, and he was at least mildly delirious.  
_Horatio, don't give in. I...we...need you to survive. To live. His eyes were closed, head bowed. I know this will change your world, I know you will be hurt by the truth of me. But...ah, you have so much to live for. If I could take the pain and give you this world on a platter, I would. If I could ease the pain of your past, I would. Let me help you. Let us help you._  
"He's still cycling his temperature, he's having trouble breathing, and he's in pain. Calleigh is stable, but still deeply unconscious." Alexx said, then looked over at the raven-haired, emerald-eyed man. "Ian, I _don't_ like this."  
His gaze was sad and painful as he replied whole-hardheartedly, "Nor do I, Doctor Woods. Nor do I."

"I know she'll recognize Eric." Speed said.  
"Yeah, well, helpin' stop a state-hopping psycho rapist promotes some bonding." returned Jason, with a faint smile. He flicked open his phone, and said, "Our two friends are on their way up." He closed it, shoving the small device back onto it's place on his belt, knowing now the pair watching from the roof wouldn't see the CSIs as a danger.  
"I don't think H intended for his condo to become an open forum." Speed's mutter was laconic.  
"Nah, but at least we're not tearin' the place apart."  
Looking around the condo unobtrusively for the upteenth time, the former CSI rubbed his face with one hand, commenting, "You know, he  
never mentioned being artistic. You think we'll ever hear him play?"  
"One way to find out, bro."  
"Yeah?"  
"Ask."

Eric glanced at his watch, then nodded to Ryan.  
"You think this could be some kind of trap?" Ryan's words were almost blurted out.  
"Why wait until now?" replied Eric, as they turned toward the stairs.  
"Eric...what I said...about your friend..."  
"It's okay. You don't know him. I understand." He paused. "I admit...it's still kind of surreal. H missing, Speed _alive_..." He shook his head. "I guess that's one reason I_ need_ to know more."  
Ryan nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Eric."  
They started up the stairs.

"Incoming." murmured Jason, sitting up a little, instantly alert. He dropped off the chair, eyes on the door, and nodded to Speed.  
The dark-haired man returned the nod, as the doorknob turned, admitting Eric and Ryan.  
Soundlessly, the blonde man stepped in behind them, closing the door just as the pair entered.  
The Las Vegas contingent, minus Gil, all looked at the newcomers.  
Marc remained still and observant from his place near the wall.  
As Speed had predicted, a flash of recognition passed across Cathrine's face. "CSI Delko." she greeted, eyes narrowing a bit. _Two Miami CSIs? Something is going on_.  
Eric just nodded, turning his gaze to his friend watching from the bar. "We need to talk." His voice was low as he approached.  
Ryan looked over at the group clustered around the couch, then back at Eric, joining him near Speed, and aware of Jason watching them. He returned to his seat, hopped back up, and sat there silently swinging slightly back and forth.  
Speed broke the silence. "You got questions - I'll try and help."  
"Is everyone okay?" Ryan asked, leaning a little forward in concern.  
"Yeah. Ian's with them."  
"Tell us about this Ian character." Eric half-asked, half-demanded.  
"I've worked for him almost eight years. Smart, educated, and determined." He paused, smiled laconically, then had to add, "But he's not H."  
"He said he was H's father." pointed out Eric.  
"He_ is_ H's father."  
"How do you know that? That DNA test could be a fake."  
"It's not." Speed shifted his weight. "I'm sure."  
"How?"  
"I'm the person who gave them access to CSI personnel files."  
Eric stared at him. "You did_ what_? Speed, _why_?"  
The other man's laconic smile was somehow enigmatic. "For H."  
"Even if Ian is H's father, why kidnap him, Calleigh, and Alexx?" Ryan interjected.  
Speed shook his head. "Like I said, Ian is out to help H. So am I. So is Jason there."  
"Help how?" demanded Eric.  
Jason glanced up, shook his head with a kind of bemused humor, then turned his gaze back to the door, watching the trio out of the corner of his eye.  
"Do you believe in magic?" Speed finally asked.  
"What? No."  
"I've seen it in action." Speed's gaze was frank and steady. "So have you."  
Eric looked at Speed, not sure what to think.  
"Hey, so've I." Jason's voice carried a tone of humor.  
Eric and Ryan looked at each other, then back to Speed.  
"Magic?" Eric's voice was laced with disbelief.  
"Yeah."  
"You're saying that that disappearing act was_ magic_?"  
Speed nodded, as Jason glanced at him and lifted his eyebrows.  
"What about _science_, Speed?" There was an edge of desperation in Eric's voice.  
Speed's gaze darkened. "What about science? How many things does science not tell us? How many monsters have walked because they were able to twist science to their own means, or science just couldn't prove? Well, it isn't gonna happen to H. Eric, can you trust me on this? Can you believe in what you saw?"  
Eric, despite himself, was reeling. The idea of magic seemed silly, juvenile - but this was his friend. Someone he had trusted with his life, once. Someone he had mourned. Speed wasn't crazy, he was sure of that. He was alive, and there, and on his side. It was _Speed_, not a stranger. Not some shyster looking to get a buck.  
Finally, he looked over at Ryan, then back at the man who was still, after all this time, his best friend.  
"I don't know. But I trust you."

Ian whispered, "_An chuid eile éasca, mo mhac_. You are not alone."  
Horatio's body shuddered with the effort to keep operating, and Alexx touched his forehead, frowning at the temperature. "I'm not sure if he's getting better or worse, half the time." She was worried and frustrated, both showing in her tone.  
"As long as he struggles to live, I believe he will."  
"Ian..." Alexx hesitated. "He's in a very fragile state, and I'm not sure what I can do."  
Emerald eyes met dark ones. "Watch over him, and keep loving him. Believe in him." Ian's voice was soft.  
"That's not going to change." Alexx's tone was fierce.  
"Nor for I."

Calleigh was startled when the door to the small building opened, looking up to see the younger Horatio coming in the door.  
The boy was limping slightly as he entered, and paused, eyes flicking to the older man still on the floor. "Is he all right?" the boy asked, crouching down next to her.  
For a split second, she felt a surge of complete confusion. _Two_ Horatios, the man she loved and the child who had become her friend. It was impossible. Confusing.  
"He's badly hurt." she managed to get out. "I need some water, clean water..."  
The younger Horatio met her eyes. "He's your friend." He observed. "Is he lost too?"  
Calleigh responded without thinking. "Yes." _In more ways than one_. The thought flashed through her mind. She looked more closely at the boy, noticing his weight all on one leg. "What happened? Are you all right?"  
"I'll be fine. I'll go get some fresh water, some bandages, and another blanket." He started out the door.  
"Horatio, please be careful."  
"I will." Then the youngster was gone.  
She hurt for both of them. Her heart belonged to the man, and she cared for the boy.  
The whole situation was almost incomprehensible - but she knew one thing.  
She was going to fight for them both.

IRISH

_"An chuid eile éasca, mo mhac."_ - "Rest easy, my son."


End file.
